


Small Shock

by Ruenis



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Anxiety, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2018-08-13 15:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 73,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7980928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruenis/pseuds/Ruenis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But then again, discovering something else besides humans exist in this world really isn't something surprising.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Being a navy officer on the _Wadatsumi_ is surprisingly enjoyable.

She is a rather large ship, and given her lack of artillery, the crew is not expected to engage in very many skirmishes. She is expected to mostly transport cargo instead, crates of food, barrels of gunpowder, boxes of various weaponry.. she brings them to various ports and countries, as well as small groups of people occasionally, whether they be captured pirates or citizens of various places.

Though she serves naval officers a small crew of naval officers, her fleet is not expected to specialise in fighting. They _do_ board pirate ships every-so-often when prompted to, and they are rather adept at handling themselves, adept enough to prevent any major injury. Each and every one of them are properly, rigorously trained. Before the _Wadatsumi_ sets sail, any new, potential enlistments are tested on their skill with any kind of sword and gun – any other weapon training or testing is done off-ship. Most crewmen use the standard rapier and pistol combo, it being the most easy to learn.

Kaizuka Inaho has a rapier of his own, though he rarely uses it. It was a gift from his sister when he informed her of his final decision to enlist in the fleet as she did. It is made of silver, and it looks more decorative than usable, if he is to be honest, though it functions perfectly well for what it was made to do. Like most of the crew, he also has a pistol with him, that he uses far more frequently, more used to how it works and feels.

“Hey, be careful, Nao!” a familiar voice calls.

Inaho turns his head slightly to find Yuki leaning over the railing near the ship's wheel, a small, worried frown on her features. Adjusting himself somewhat as he leans against the ship's railing, he offers her a small nod and a wave of acknowledgment.

Even as an adult, he is still rather petite and childish looking; he has not from much from his teenage years, and is nearing the age where people generally seem to stop growing any taller. During his three years of enlistment, he has gone overboard twice no thanks to rough waters and his inability to weigh down a rowboat by himself. Both times, he nearly drowned, and _would_ have had it not been for the crew’s quick rescue of him.

“It’s been awhile since you’ve fallen off, though,” another voice offers, teasing.

Grunting softly when a sudden weight is thrown over his shoulders, Inaho finds himself being pushed gently against the railing. It is enough to pin him down, but not enough to hurt him. “Calm..” He tries to maneuver himself out from under the blond, failing when the other rests more of his weight against him.

Calm snickers, playfully pushing Inaho down more. “You prob’ly shouldn’t lean against the railing. You might fall over again,” he teases, knowing full well that Inaho cannot follow his advice. Though he is younger, he takes joy in the fact that he can overpower the other in at least this way.

In actual combat, Inaho is faster.

“ _Any_ way..” Calm hums, “Nina spotted a pirate ship followin’ us in the distance.. So the cap'n says not to wander off this time, when we board, ‘kay?”

Inaho makes a soft sound of acknowledgment.

“Great. I’ll see ya, then!” Calm says, pulling away. Before his friend can retaliate, he runs back toward the hold, leaving the brunet to only gaze after him in slight frustration.

The ocean’s waves are loud in his ears, and Inaho glances back toward Yuki, who is still at the helm with a quiet Marito. There is no way she had heard their conversation, though she would most likely agree with their captain – there is little doubt that he remains a naval officer solely because of Yuki’s intervention, and for that, he is grateful.

Captain Magbaredge gives him the same instructions each time they come across pirates.

.. Inaho just chooses not to listen, most of the time.

 

 

The crew is like family, in a way. Inaho regards most of them as such. Like a family, they have someone they are supposed to listen to – their Captain Magbaredge, who is the highest rank on the ship and is charged with giving them orders that the crew carries out.

However, though Inaho knows and understands that captain Magbaredge is several ranks above him.. he has little understanding and acknowledgment for authority. Growing up with mainly Yuki to serve as an ‘authority’ figure did not do much for him, especially when he was on his own while she was out to sea.

Captain Magbaredge’s orders are important, but he sees no reason to follow them if there is something he is capable of doing on his own.

Inaho wants to help and keep busy. So he finds things to do, even if it means ignoring the captain's orders.

Disregarding the captain’s orders as he wanders through the pirate’s hold, he listens as the _Wadatsumi_ crew scrambles about above him, their footsteps heavy and loud. The pirates are tied up and subdued, so that the captain can question them. Pirates following a visibly naval ship is not a good sign.

The pirates do not have much in the way of treasure down here, a disappointment he has grown used to. Not many pirates have anything akin to treasure at all, and most of the time, they simply have stolen ammunition and weapons. From what Inaho has seen so far, their food supply is ample, and they have a dangerously large weapon supply – once he returns, he will have to inform the captain, and they will have to confiscate the guns and gunpowder.

Making his way toward the last cabin, he slows down upon seeing that this door is different than the others. It is shut, for one, and lacks a proper viewing window, making it unlike all the others. Even the captain’s door has a small window with bars over it. He turns the knob slowly, hand at his side, ready to draw his gun if need be, and hesitantly peeks his head through the gap.

Inaho sucks in a surprised breath upon seeing what is inside.

 

 

“Sound off!” Magbaredge order. A young woman with hair the same shade of a raven's wing stands beside her. “Mizusaki, take roll,” she says, gazing at the roll of parchment in her first mate’s hands. It lists the names of the _Wadatsumi's_ crew, and is separated by the crew’s roles – those who are part of the fighting squad, and those who mainly remain on the ship during raids.

“Marito?”

“Present.”

“Kakei?”

“Present!”

“Amifumi?”

“Present, ma'am!”

“Kaizuka senior?”

“Present.”

“Kaizuka junior?”

Immediately looking around at their small gathering, Yuki groans inwardly upon seeing that, once again, her little brother is nowhere to be found. “Why, Nao..?” she sighs, shaking her head a few times, “The captain’s going to chew you out again..!”

“.. Kaizuka junior?” Mizusaki calls again, raising her head from the parchment. She scans the deck slowly, trying to make sure the young officer is not hiding amongst the detained pirates or their own crew. When she does not see him, she looks to the other woman at her side, meeting Magbaredge’s narrowed green eyes. “Captain..”

“Kakei, get Craftman,” Magbaredge orders, earning a quick salute from the man before he runs across the deck. Kakei boards their own ship quickly, minding his steps when he crosses the plank that connects their ships, and disappears down into the hold through the open door.

Yuki sighs softly, wondering why Inaho persists in ignoring orders again and again. The captain does not punish him harshly, to be fair, and Inaho does the extra chores he is assigned without arguing. Or maybe her little brother just truly does not mind the consequences. “Captain..” she starts to say.

“We'll hold off on discussing punishment until we find him, Kaizuka,” Magbaredge says, shaking her head somewhat. “He has to be found first.”

“Captain, I have returned with Craftman.”

The two walk over, Calm's footsteps slightly heavier than Kakei's. It seems as if he was in the middle of repairs, still wearing his work uniform.

The boatswain smiles rather sheepishly as he gazes at the captain, pulling at his hair, “Yes, cap'n..?”

“You gave Kaizuka junior my orders, correct?”

“Y.. yes, cap'n,” Calm nods, carefully meeting her gaze, “I told him. And I thought he agreed, but..”

Magbaredge sighs as she shakes her head, pressing her fingers to her temple.

Inaho is.. one of the more unique officers they have come across. Hard working, but eccentric, and prone to causing more problems of his own when he wanders off. Though he has yet to become injured from his own recklessness, his luck is bound to eventually run out.

“I see,” the captain finally says, “Marito, take Kaizuka senior wi–..”

“G-get back here!”

Swift, heavy footsteps follow after the demand, causing Magbaredge and Mizusaki to turn around in surprise. Tensing up, Calm takes a few steps backward, having left his pistol and rapier back on the ship. Without any way to defend himself, he is a liability on deck.

“Behind, Craftman,” Kakei says, and Calm does just that, retreating to the railing, just behind the black haired young man. He, along with the rest of the crew draw their swords, rigid as the footsteps come closer and closer until –

“I.. Inaho?!”

Emerging from the hold, Inaho runs up the stairs as best he can, holding a rather oddly shaped bundled blanket against his chest. It almost looks like..

“Ah..”

Inaho loses his footing on the last stair, as well as his hold on the bundle. Both he and the bundle fall to the deck, though Inaho's head hits far harder than the bundle. The blanket stirs, a barely quiet whimper escaping it. “Grab him!” he says quickly, drawing his pistol. He aims is downward, at the stairwell leading to the hold. “I will shoot you if you move,” he says, “and so will the rest of our crew.” It is not a threat. There is no malice. It is a hard, cruel fact and he would not hesitate to do so should the pirate try anything.

The bundle stirs again, though this time it moves enough to be noticed. Another quiet whimper escapes it, causing Inaho to tense up.

“Yuki-nee. Marito,” he calls, hearing footsteps behind him, “please detain this person.” He gets up slowly, finger still on the delicate trigger to his pistol. A flick is all it would take. “Captain, when we get back, please charge them with kidnapping and unnecessary violence against an unarmed civilian.” Taking a few steps backward, he rests his free hand against the wall, keeping his eyes firm on the pirate, who is still collapsed on the stairway.

They had fallen when they tripped Inaho, and there is a glare on their features. Despite that, they remain still, and do not draw the shortsword at their waist. “That's our priceless treasure!” they cry, glare deepening when Marito forces their arms behind their back.

Marito sighs softly as Yuki unravels some rope that had been hanging on her belt, watching as she ties the pirate's wrists together like they had done the others. “You never cease to surprise, Kaizuka junior,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

“We're confiscating your 'priceless treasure',” Inaho says, ignoring the older man as he sheathes his pistol. Following after Yuki and Marito, he waits until they have passed to crouch down and pick the bundled blanket back up. He pulls the fabric aside to reveal a pained face belonging to a blond, who's features are that of confusion and fear. “ _People_ aren't 'treasures',” he mumbles, frowning somewhat as the blond coughs.

“They were detaining him?” Magbaredge questions, looking surprised. They have not had to deal with hostage situations for awhile, and no one has been reported missing recently. They make a point to check boards and receive messages and orders at each port they stop at.

“He was tied up in the hold, in a back room,” Inaho answers with a nod, taking a few short steps forward, “Captain, may I bring him to Yagarai?” Keeping quiet when the blond presses his face to his neck, his gaze slips to the blond’s ruffled, platinum hair. Another pained whimper escapes the hostage’s lips, low and soft.

“Do so immediately, Kaizuka junior. See to it that his injuries are properly attended to,” Magbaredge orders, gesturing to their own ship.

Inaho bows as best he can, careful not to drop the blond again, and continues toward the _Wadatsumi_.

“And, Kaizuka?”

“Yes, captain?” he asks, stopping to glance at her.

“You will not be reprimanded for going off on your own, but please think about the potential consequences to your actions.”

“.. yes, captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh.. I'm working on a bunch of other stuff right now.. and I know that I take a long time to update multi-chaptered fics.. but I finished this first chapter and I wanted to upload it..  
> *  
>  ~~Also, small poll?~~  
>  ~~I can't decide something that's needed for me to continue onto the second chapter, and I'm pretty sure you guys already know what kind of AU this is, so.. :~~  
>  ~~Should a certain race of half people be able to easily communicate with the humans, or should there be some difficulties? ie; language barries?~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for helping me decide! Your input was definitely super helpful, and I will continue to think about it in the coming chapters! ;;

To be fair, living in a sheltered, deep sea palace for most of his life has rendered Slaine almost completely ignorant of anything near the water’s surface, and _everything_ above it is a complete mystery. It does not exist.

Boats and ships?

He knows about those.

A few of them litter the ocean's floor, covered in barnacles and home to various fish. Some are filled with odd looking chests of wood rather than hard shell, and are filled with shiny, flat discs that shimmer when held up to a luminescent jellyfish. There are also oddly shaped rocks, sometimes, among the shiny discs; the rocks are all in different colours, all shiny red, blue, green. Both the discs and the rocks are hard to break, as proven by several attempts to shatter them to pieces. Sometimes, there are hard, bleached white bones among the shipwrecks. Slaine is not sure what they belong to, because they are bigger than the average fish, and oddly shaped, just like the rocks and discs. They are unfamiliar. He leaves them alone, having noticed that sometimes the fish like to seek refuge among them.

Coins?

The currency means absolutely nothing in the ocean depths, where trade is commonplace.

Precious gems?

Deemed 'shiny rocks' that are near impossible to damage, at least with Slaine's method of throwing them around against walls and ships, or trying to scrape them against stone.

The sun?

Unnecessary for people who live thousands of feet under the water. They use light from bioluminescent creatures and have their own eyes adjust. Slaine knows that light _does_ come from somewhere, up closer to the water’s surface, but he is not sure where it comes from.

Human beings?

No one has ever mentioned them to him or anyone else, and he had absolutely _no idea_ that there was a whole other world just above the surface, teeming with life, teeming with bright light.

.. that is, until one day, he is curious as to why the fish population in the area is dwindling. These particular sea creatures are not his friends, but he cannot turn a blind eye when they were the creatures he feeds his beloved jellyfish. Should their population go down, his jellyfish will be without food, and..

_And.. I don’t want.._

There is a group of the fish clustered near the surface. Slaine followed their scents, but the light here is too bright for his sensitive eyes, the oxygen in the water too potent. It makes him dizzy, lungs unused to receiving more air than normal, and he does not realise he has made a mistake until he starts to move around.

Something rubs against his wrist, burns, irritates, stings, and Slaine has no idea that the woven, odd material is in fact rope.

It takes a moment to realise the fish are panicked, and that his vision is not swimming just because of the light and extra oxygen. All it took was one small action to disrupt what little peace he had left in his life, and he is absolutely _appalled_ to find that there is an entire _world_ above his own, filled with odd things and odd creatures who have faces just like his.

* * *

 

The odd creatures are otherworldly. They speak in an odd tongue, speak too swiftly, too loudly, and though their upper half is similar to his own, they have no problems moving around. The first and only thing that comes to mind is that they are almost like octopuses, except instead of moving around on eight limbs, these beings are upright and move around on two of their four. Like Slaine, they have arms, but.. he does not know what those _things_ are, that they move around on.

The oxygen is still dizzying, makes it hard for him to think properly, hard to formulate a plan of escape. That, and they tied his wrists with the same thing that burns and stings, and his wrists are already an unsettling shade of red. It stings, and he had stopped trying to remove them awhile ago, not liking the feeling.

The creatures are rough with him. He had bitten one of them hard enough to draw blood, and they had promptly stuffed something into his mouth, something soft and white. It tastes odd, though he is unable to come up with something similar that it might taste like. They have yet to give him food or water, and the room he is kept in his hard, like the marble palace, too bright.

On what seems to be the ceiling is a dangling glowing _thing_ shaped similar to the chests under the water, except upright, just like the strange creatures, and is made of something dull, unlike the chests, something dull grey. It hangs by a similar piece of the woven material on his wrist. It holds something yellowy-orange that gives off a glow, still too bright, and unfamiliar; the yellowy-orange thing dances in the iron chest, it hurts to look at.

Most things in Slaine's world glow _blue_.

* * *

 

Although Slaine does not know it – the concept of time is hard to gauge in the room that never ceases to glow – three and a half days pass.

Three and a half days with no food, no water, no company to keep him from feeling lonely in the room that never ceases to glow. Fading in and out of exhausted consciousness is his only pastime, given he cannot do much else when restrained like this. They do not come to check on him, and they do not disturb him, more than likely still afraid of getting bit again, or getting smacked by his heavy tail.

Three and a half days pass, somewhat peacefully, until he hears yelling from up above. The creatures, no doubt, shouting in that odd tongue. They make too much sound, something pounding against the ship's floorboards, and Slaine can make out what he can only describe as _pops,_ similar sounding to the large bubbles that float up from the cracks in the seafloor, similar to the sound they make when they explode. He can hear another somewhat familiar sound, similar to when he had tried scratching the shiny rocks against each other; they scraped and scratched, were ruined, and the sound is unsettling.

It takes three and a half days for Slaine to meet a creature that is halfway decent.

Tensing up at the sound of the door opening, the blond feels a surge of panic catch in his throat. He manages to lift his head just enough to meet unfamiliar dark brown.

A young creature.

At least, this one _looks_ much younger than the others, and if Slaine had to compare this one to his own people, he would say that this one is around the same age as himself. They have a rounder face, smaller stature, bigger eyes – eyes that should be filled with childlike innocence and curiosity.

Instead, they are empty.

The creature moves through the doorway, and Slaine realises that this one is male as well, stature boyish, hair a dark, dark shade of brown. His movements are slow against the floorboards, almost hesitant, and the blond remains still as the brunet kneels down in front of him.

Slaine cannot help but flinch and shut his eyes for a moment when the young creature reaches forward. Panic seizes him again, fright, and it is still extremely difficult for him to think – when he bit that other creature, they threw him around like he was shark food.

It hurt.

“ _You're afraid of me?”_

The brunet's voice comes out soft, almost too soft, and Slaine finds himself startled as he opens his own eyes. His tone is soft and devoid of severity, but it – just like his eyes – is empty.

Slaine is unsure if emptiness is better than negative emotion. There is no gentleness. No calmness. The creature’s voice is neutral, but he does not seem dangerous. When the other reaches forward again, he tries his best to stay still, watching him carefully.

The brunet's fingers linger near his lips, warm, too warm, and Slaine breathes a sigh of relief when the _thing_ is removed from his mouth. It leaves his tongue tasting unfamiliar, and it feels as if some of the pieces of the white thing are stuck, like tiny bones of a fish. They do not hurt, but taste unpleasant, and do not belong. He watches as the brunet tosses the white thing aside, and it meets the floorboards silently, not going far; it almost floats, like a jellyfish, just for a few seconds before it falls. He remains still when the brunet gently takes his wrists, thumb rubbing against the back of his hand.

The gentleness catches him off-guard, as well. A soft tone, a gentle demeanour..

It is.. _odd_.

The young creature starts working on the woven material, starts to undo it slowly, still gentle, making no sudden moves, not pulling on his wrists or hands.

“ _Technically, you're a hostage..”_ the brunet mumbles, voice still soft, words unfamiliar, “ _I have to bring you with me.”_

The rope comes undone slowly, and when the brunet pulls it away from his wrists, Slaine gently rubs his irritated skin, trying to soothe the stinging. Eyeing the young creature before him, he remains silent, still finding it difficult to think. Being starved and deprived of food and water has made him incredibly weak, and he will not be able to act swiftly should this one try something.. But if push comes to shove.. _I suppose I can always bite him._

 

 

Slaine knows he probably should have been afraid, or at least nervous when the young creature started to wrap him up in something soft, something similar feeling to the _thing_ that had been in his mouth. He probably _should_ have been wary, but then the young creature hid his face, and it became much, much darker, much easier on his eyes, it was so much easier to breathe. So he makes no attempt to fight back when the brunet picks him up, starting to feel drowsy, again. This world is too warm, too bright; it exhausts him.

He just wants to return to the palace.

 

 

“ _He was tied up in the hold, in a back room,”_ Slaine hears the young creature say, “ _Captain, may I bring him to Yagarai?”_

Pressing his face to the brunet’s neck, he groans softly in pain. The fall to the floorboards had only worsened things, and now he is both sore _and_ weak. It is even brighter up here than it was in that room, and the oxygen is quickly making him dizzy once again. When he is dizzy, it is hard to think, and..

“ _Do so immediately, Kaizuka junior. See to it that his injuries are attended to.”_

This voice is also in that unfamiliar, odd tongue, and it sounds feminine. Though she is noticeably louder than the younger creature, her tone is not hostile.

“ _And, Kaizuka?”_

“ _Yes, captain?”_ The brunet’s voice sounds odd, right near his ear.

“ _You will not be reprimanded for going off on your own, but please think about the potential consequences to your actions.”_

“ _.. yes, captain.”_

Their language is not similar in the least. Nothing of what any of them has said has been even close to his own languages, not a word. But, seeing as they have yet to do anything to him, have yet to shout or yell or tie him up again in a lonely room, they have already made a better impression than the creatures from before did.

Slaine keeps his eyes shut tight, trying to steady his breathing.

This world is too, too bright, and he has no idea what is going on.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _Mmn..”_

The blond’s pained groan causes Inaho to look down at him again. Dropping him had only added to his bruising and injury, and the fact makes him feel the slightest bit guilty. Inaho takes care to walk slowly, being deliberately cautious so that he does not drop him a second time. The pirates had absolutely no right to keep him tied up like that, and judging his current condition, it seems as if he had been neglected.

The blond does not say anything, still, nor does he raise his head from Inaho’s neck. And then, just as suddenly as he had been awake..

.. Inaho very nearly drops him when he suddenly goes limp in his arms.

 

 **Dead** **weight.**

 

 

 _Ah, no,_ he reminds himself, shaking his head slightly, _He's still breathing._

Using such language is inaccurate, according to Yuki – or perhaps she said 'inappropriate'? It does not matter either way; the blond has passed out, which means they will most likely not be getting any information out of him for quite some time.

Coming to a stop, he allows his eyes to linger over the other’s face.

Where his jaw is, closest to his ear, there are barely visible, shiny, translucent.. _specks?_ dotting the blond’s skin. They are oval shaped, and some are more white than translucent, some are more grey, and how that Inaho has time to properly look the blond over, he can see that they are not just on his face. They dot his shoulders, as well, and.. his ears, too. They are oddly shaped, the tips pointed and frayed like a fish's fin.

 _They're scales,_ he realises a second later. The shiny ovals are scales. Adjusting the blond’s hair as best he can, he hides his ears so they are not exposed, and continues on, still taking slow, careful steps. _They still think he's a civilian,_ he realises, _If I tell them he isn't, they might.._

That would not be good.

Right now, it is his responsibility to ensure the blond is cared for and properly nursed back to health, so he can return to wherever he came from without any issue.

That means keeping a secret for a little longer. A few days.

_A few days, and then, he can.._

 

 

“Doctor Yagarai?” Inaho calls, gently kicking at the door with his foot. With the blond still unconscious, he does not want to risk trying to opening the door and dropping him, nor does he want to put him down on the floorboards. Kicking at the door again, he adjusts the blond some more; the blond is heavy in his arms, heavier now that he has lost consciousness, and he is not sure how much longer –

A moment later, the door opens, and a bespectacled, older man stands in the doorway, a look of surprise on his features. “Kaizuka junior?” he questions, tone low. His eyes slip downward at the messy bundle of blanket, and he realises the officer is not alone, “And.. someone new? An injured pirate?” Opening the door completely without waiting for an answer, he allows Inaho inside, not about to refuse medical aide to whomever it might be.

“A.. civilian,” Inaho answers, listening as the doctor shuts the door behind them Walking over to an empty cot, he sets the blanketed blond down on it, breathing a sigh of relief. “He was.. being held hostage, in a back room. Could you watch over him until he regains consciousness?”

Yagarai follows after the young officer, pulling a chair out and sitting in it, a few ways from the duo. “You don’t want me to look him over?”

Inaho remains quiet a moment, carefully rearranging the blanket, movements slow still, deliberate. Covering the blond’s chest and tucking him in, he glances toward the doctor. “I already checked, and he has no injuries. Just mild bruising from the rope, and he probably hasn’t eaten or drank anything the whole time he was kept on board,” he says, and then he lowers his tone, “He also isn’t wearing any clothing, and he was dazed and confused, but it doesn’t look like he was assaulted.”

“I see,” Yagarai says, looking relieved. “I’m glad. And none of you were injured?”

“No,” Inaho answers, shaking his head. Leaning back, he grabs the pillow from the other cot and gently lifts the other’s head, placing the pillow under him. The blond cannot have possibly been comfortable in that room, and hopefully this will help him get some well needed rest so he can wake up, sooner. “Can you keep an eye on him, and let me know when he wakes up? He might panic.” 'Might' as in, _he will most definitely panic, so call me_ **immediately** _when he wakes._

Yagarai nods as he turns and pulls a piece of parchment from his desk, as well as a quill and a bottle of ink. He pushes aside the weak excuse of a candle lying on the drawer, the wick barely visible among the melty, waxy mess, and sets his things down where it had been, instead. Presumably, he is going to start taking note of the blond’s condition.

Inaho gets up, dark eyes lingering for a moment. “I have to report back to the captain.”

“Of course. No one will bother him, Kaizuka, and I’ll let you know when he wakes.”

 

 

Finding Captain Magbaredge is relatively easy.

Yuki and Marito are keeping watch on the pirate’s deck, ensuring they do not misbehave or attempt anything while the other officers have presumably returned to their posts and tasks. The captain has most likely ordered them to rifle through the pirate’s belongings and confiscate anything that seems suspicious, like the weapons and over abundant gunpowder. When he heads down into their hold, he finds Inko, Calm, Kakei, Tsumugi and Matsuribi going through the various barrels and crates, inspecting them to see which ones they will have to confiscate.

Magbaredge is standing in front of one of the larger barrels, and he quietly stands behind her for a moment, hoping to gain her attention. When he does not, he starts, “Captain, I hav–..” He stops himself when the woman tenses up and turns to look down at him, a sigh escaping her lips.

“Kaizuka junior.. I believe I’ve told you before to make your presence known,” Magbaredge murmurs, shaking her head a few times. As heavy as his footsteps _should_ be because of his boots, the other five crew members are making too much noise for her to distinguish between the sounds. The hold is filled with a dull, echoing sound of crates and barrels being shuffled, metallic pieces clicking..

Inaho stays quiet at that, gazing up at her with that familiar, blank look on his features. Whether or not he feels bad is anyone's guess.

“.. is the boy taken care of?” she asks, earning a small nod.

“Doctor Yagarai is taking care of him. I've asked him to let me know when he wakes up,” he answers, tone still quiet. He pauses for a moment, dark eyes flickering between his captain's face and the crates piled up against the wall. “I want permission to monitor him, captain. Exclusive permission.”

“Why?”

“I believe he might be prone to panicking. The pirates frightened him. If he is exposed to more faces at a slower period of time rather than all at once, then his mental state may improve, and he is less likely to lash out.”

Magbaredge hums quietly at that, seeming to give it some thought. She gestures to the crates after a moment and starts to walk away, “ _For now_ , he will be your responsibility. I'll give your request some more thought. In the meantime, until he wakes up, transfer the confiscated crates to our ship and proceed with your duties as usual.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

 

 

“Inaho?”

Raising his head, the young officer finds himself gazing at two familiar faces. “.. yes?” he asks, though he already has an idea of what his friends want to ask him. As ordered, he is going through the crates, and currently has an open one full of bullets and hay before him.

“That boy you found,” Inko starts, a dangerous amount of weaponry cradled in her arms, “Is he okay?” It does not seem as if the guns are loaded, and a few of their parts look broken, rusted. These ones were probably not being used.

“He’s being monitored by Yagarai. And no, you can’t see him,” he says automatically, gaze flickering to their boatswain, “For now, he’s in my care.” And will hopefully remain that way, until he is ready to return home. It would be ideal if he were strong enough to do so before Magbaredge makes her final decision.

“Awh, damn,” Calm mumbles, visibly disappointed, “We _really_ can’t see him?”

Inaho shakes his head, looking between the two of them. What does he say, to make it clear that their new guest is in no state to interact with others? “He’s..” Shifting, he pulls at the hay, the bullets shifting and sliding somewhat as he does, quietly bumping against each other, “.. volatile. It wouldn’t be safe for us, or him, if he were to panic.. And he wasn’t able to talk to me.”

Calm blinks, visibly surprised. “He couldn’t speak?”

“He was in shock, I think.”

“.. well..” Inko smiles, bittersweet, “Let’s get back to work. We’ll help, Inaho. Hopefully he’ll feel better soon.”

 

 

“Hey, so, which is heavier? These, or the kid?” Calm questions, curious, “People are heavy, yeah?”

“The barrels are heavier,” Inaho murmurs. ‘Kid’ does not seem to be the right word to refer to him, considering Calm, along with Nina and Tsumugi are the youngest members of their crew, at twenty-one.

The barrels are wooden, and are relatively heavy, even when empty. Filled with gunpowder, they weigh around ninety kilograms, and he and Calm are taking them one by one back to the _Wadatsumi._ It would be difficult to carry on their own, without help. The officers all taking turns in pairs, careful not to bump into one another as they cross between the ships.

“He weighed somewhere around sixty kilograms..” A bit on the heavy side for Inaho's small frame, but not as heavy as the barrels. At least he could carry the blond by himself.

“Mm.. Hope he feels better..” Calm offers, stopping for a moment to readjust his hold on the barrel. They lower it temporarily, allowing him to hold it from the bottom instead of the sides, and then pick it back up with a quiet huff. “How many do we have left?”

“Ten,” Inaho answers, “I'm switching with Kakei after this.”

“Eh? Why?” Calm asks, sounding offended.

The two of them life the barrel over the plank’s edge, careful not to let it weigh down on the wood. Inaho doubts it will break, but it cannot hurt to be careful and ensure nothing happens. Heavy, wooden boards rest between the two ships. They are durable and wide, made from some type of hickory that they got while they were in China. Living up to its hardwood classification, they have yet to break, even when carrying hundreds of pounds of barrel and people on it.

Inaho waits until they safely carry the barrel over to their own ship, where it will be temporarily put in the corner and then carried down later on. “Inko said she wanted to ask questions about him,” he says, lifting his head somewhat.

Calm watches as the brunet shifts his weight, watches as he glances toward the door that leads to their cabins and infirmary on the lower level. “Worried?”

“He.. wasn’t speaking..” Inaho murmurs, shaking his head.

Perhaps ‘unresponsive’ would be a better word. Neither of them tried very hard to speak with one another, and Inaho had been primarily concerned with getting him immediate medical attention, but.. The few words he said to the blond, he had not responded or even attempted to; he had just stared. It had seemed as if he responded to touch, and touch _is_ more stimulating, more easily understandable.. –

“He's gonna be okay.”

Inaho raises his head, surprised.

Calm grins at him, warm. “I didn’t get a good look, but he didn’t seem all that hurt, and he’s here ‘cause you saved him.. You found him before that other pirate did, so.. He’s gonna be fine,” he says, easy.

Inaho finds himself nodding, slow.

“Great! Then, let’s put this down and go help the others, ‘kay? When we’re done, you can go check on him, if you want.”

Picking the barrel back up, Inaho matches Calm’s pace, sparing the door one last glance. _He's.. going to be okay..?_


	4. Chapter 4

An hour passes.

And then two.

Then a third, and a fourth, and they are finally done evaluating the pirate's _former_ property and finished dealing with the pirates. All the barrels have been properly relocated and confiscated, and they searched the pirate ship thoroughly to ensure any and all weapons had been taken.

A fifth passes and they are ready to set sail once again. The pirate's leader is locked up in a cell somewhere below the crew's cabins, and the other officers are taking turns watching them. The other pirates were released once all weapons had been confiscated, deemed not that great of a threat by Magbaredge. The captain instructed them that they would not be getting their leader back unless they followed them to the closest port without issue, and failure to do so would result in her crew becoming hostile.

They did not seem to like that.

Five hours, and there has been no change in the blond's condition. Inaho had gone to check on him some time ago, and while it seemed as if he is in less pain and more comfortable than before, it did not seem as if he has moved.

Inaho is taking a break, now, leaning against the ship’s railing once again and looking down into the sea.

The sea is empty.

Of course, there are millions of organisms living under its surface, sunken ships and boats and crates and barrels that make excellent homes for a wide variety of sea-life..

But he had always considered the sea was ' _empty_ '. Devoid of intelligent creatures, devoid of any excitement and mysteries that the rest to the world has to offer. Humans cannot explore the sea. They have no means to venture deep into it, cannot breathe in water.. So what could there possibly under its dark surface? What could there be other than lost, ruined ships ridden with treasure, other than fish and sharks and whales?

_Nothing._

That was what he had thought.

“I was wrong,” he mumbles to himself, gazing at the dark, dark waters. It churns under him, quietly, and thankfully is not enough to rock or tip their ship in its current condition. When it gets stormy, it is dangerous for the crew to be out on the deck, and Inaho knows that better than anyone after falling off the ship twice. Not being able to get back to his cabin quick enough had been an unfortunate mistake.

Perhaps his judgment against the sea is biased. Just a bit.

“Nao?”

Inaho turns to find Yuki gazing at him again, with that familiar worried look on her features. It has plagued her for most of their lives, from when they were orphaned when he was an infant to now, now that he has joined the naval force with her. Raising his head to meet her gaze as she walks toward him, he greets, “Yuki-nee. Do you need something?”

“Are you alright?” Yuki asks softly, leaning forward to run her fingers through her brother’s hair. They get caught for a moment as she attempts to comb through it, and finds herself having a more difficult time than she anticipated with all the tangles. “You need to comb your hair more often, Nao..” she sighs, shaking her head. Despite that, a smile pulls at her lips. Inaho has not changed in the least.

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” he answers, remaining still for her. Today has been.. rough, even for him. Dealing with pirates is rare enough, but finding an odd.. person.. has made an already unusual day even weirder. It is not often that pirates take hostages, and to have someone like _that_ on board? In broad daylight?

They have all heard the myths. Between pirates and naval officers, they are shared just as much, and even normal civilians are well knowledgeable about _them_. It is said that _they_ can lure sailors and pirates alike to their deaths with nothing but _their_ voices, that _they_ can tear and rip with their teeth, that _they_ glow in the dark and act as false beacons of light..

Of course, none of the myths have ever been confirmed. They are legends. Tales. Stories to tell, share, embellish. Never has any right-minded person ever considered their validity.

_Until now._

“I'm sure he'll wake up, soon, Nao..” she says, gentle as she continues to run her fingers through the knots.

The action is familiar, calming, and he makes no attempt to stop her. Being an adult now means nothing when he still sometimes needs her sisterly attention. Yuki is, and always will be, his dear older sister, and he has no intention of pushing her away.

“He's going to be okay,” she offers.

_That, again. 'He's going to be okay'. Is he, truly?_

The words do not do much to soothe him. They are unnerving.

The blond does not look human. That much is obvious, when he is not covered by that blanket. It may not even be safe for him to be up here, with them, amongst unfamiliar people.. It is also possible that he might be intelligent enough to function somewhat as one of them, pass as normal.

Nothing can be confirmed until.. –

“Kaizuka junior?”

Blinking, Inaho looks past Yuki’s arm. His heart skips. “Doctor Yagarai,” he greets, seeing the man in the doorway, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the churning waves.

“The boy, he.. he’s woken up,” Yagarai says, a look of worry on his face, a different kind of worry than Yuki’s, “He still isn’t speaking.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahah! I had some time before I go to work, so I wanted to upload this really quick. please enjoy!

Slaine’s heavy eyes protest as he tries to open them, utter exhaustion telling him that he should remain asleep and resting so he can gather his strength back. It takes him a few attempts to open them, willing the exhaustion away, and slowly blinks his vision back into a proper view. _Where.. Am..?_

The ceiling is wooden instead of stone, and he realises that he is lying on something comfortable, a different kind of comfort than he is used to.

_That’s right, I.._

The ceiling is wooden, just like the other one had been, but this one is different. He is on a ship belonging to those odd creatures. The odd, dangling glowing _thing_ does not hang from the ceiling, but this room is still brighter than his eyes are used to. Slaine glances downward, at the boards. They are different as well, have a different pattern. Beside him is the thing he assumes is lighting up at least this part of the room. The sight of it does not cause his eyes to ache as much. It is small, and gives off a glow similar to the colour of a clownfish – it is odd, seeing such a thing, and it almost seems as if it is falling apart, right before his eyes. Small pools of orange sit amongst what seems to be the sturdier parts, surrounding solid white.

It is glowing, dimly. The light flickers, moves, dances.

It reminds him of an anglerfish, with their tiny glowing lights. Anglerfish are dangerous – they entrance and ensnare prey, luring them closer with the promise of warm light, and then devour them whole.

Slaine does not remember that fact quick enough. It is too late when he reaches out, albeit slowly and weakly, fingertips brushing against the dancing light.

He recoils, immediately, and hisses softly in pain. It burns and stings, just like the sensation of that material that had been on his wrist. _It hurts.._

“ _Mm? What was..”_

Slaine looks up and freezes instantly. That voice and face do not belong to the younger creature who had helped him. They belong to an older looking one, with something shiny and reflective over his eyes, like the rocks he had found, but.. they are flat.. and see through.. “A-ah..” The small utterance hurts his parched throat. Pulling the soft, unfamiliar thing that is covering him, he presses himself further against whatever he is lying on, trying to hide his face.

“ _Are you okay?”_

The voice is soft, just like the young creature’s, but.. This one is older, and that immediately makes him more dangerous.

_Where did the young one go?_

“ _.. kid?”_

Slaine exhales shakily, clutching at the soft material. _Go away. Go away.._ he wills, shutting his eyes tight. The material feels weak in his grasp, flimsy, and his fingertips turn a warm red from the exertion.

Something moves away from him, softly thudding. A dull click follows, and the movement fades away.

 

 

Once a few minutes have passed, and Slaine can hear nothing but the muffled sound of what he vaguely remembers to be the sea, he peeks out from under the thin material. The room is dimmer now, and upon seeing that the other creature has gone, he sits up as best he can, head still slightly aching. The light beside him seems to be slowly fading, flickering weakly as it dances in the pool, and the orange liquid seems to be snuffing out what little light remains.

He.. wants to touch it again, despite it hurting him. Curiosity outweighs fear at the moment, and now that the other creature is gone, he is somewhat free to do as he wishes. Even if he wanted to, he cannot leave on his own, so.. Reaching forward, he dips his fingers into the orange pool, and finds that it is warm, though it feels odd against his fingers. It does not feel watery, and it does not hurt like the light did, though the warmth is jarring in comparison to the cold environment he is used to. _Is.. this edible..?_ he wonders, bringing his fingers to his lips.

“ _Don't.”_

Slaine raises his head, blinking in surprise to see the younger creature in the doorway, the brown haired one that had saved him. The older one is with him too, the one with those shiny things over his eyes. _Still empty,_ he realises after a moment, licking his lips anyway. Being unable to understand the other means he does not realise he is being warned.

“ _Wh.. I told you not to..”_

He regrets his decision instantly, the liquid stuff tasting horrid, sour, bitter, and it sticks to his tongue. Before he can bring his hand to his mouth, wanting to cough it up, the young creature is in front of him, pulling at his hand and rubbing away whatever excess liquid there is. Slaine stares, surprised.

The brunet is oddly gentle with him, seemingly being as careful as he can as he rubs the liquid away. “ _Why did you do that..?”_ he mumbles, and this time, his tone sounds somewhat worried, confused, “ _You can’t understand me?”_

At that, Slaine freezes when the other’s gaze flickers upward and their eyes meet. The tone implies a question. A confused question. And without context, it is impossible to discern what he could possibly be asking of him – whether he had been injured? If he is hungry? Thirsty? Tired?

The possibility of gaining an answer is low, but.. Responding with a question of his own, his own voice quiet, strained from a lack of water, he asks, “What.. are you..?”


	6. Chapter 6

“ _Hvað.. heitir þú?”_

Inaho blinks as he gazes up at the blond, taken by complete surprise. Whatever just came out of his mouth was heavily accented, along with soft and careful sounding. _He really is foreign,_ he thinks to himself, having not the faintest idea of what that language even was.

Yagarai clears his throat behind the young officer, “Did he.. speak in a different language?”

Swallowing, Inaho forces himself to continue rubbing the candle wax off the other's fingers, hoping that whatever else comes out from his mouth does not incriminate either of them. They are going to have a difficult time communicating with one another. “Yes. He did,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes on the blond's. The wax on his fingers has hardened already, and thankfully, it seems as if he will not try and eat it again, given how disgusted he looked.

Their new guest is no longer acknowledging the doctor, and is instead staring right back at Inaho, those teal eyes of his tired, but curious. It seems he wants a response.

Unfortunately, the one he gets will not be in the same language he just spoke, so it will be worthless to him.

“.. Doctor Yagarai,” Inaho starts, “What do you think his condition is?”

“We don't know how long he was on their ship, and it doesn't seem as if the pirates will be willing to talk to any of us, after we took their captain aboard.. But he's most likely dehydrated and starving, which is why he seems dazed,” Yagarai says, something like pained worry in his voice. It is only natural to be worried over someone who seems like a perfectly normal civilian foreigner, especially one that looks so young.

“.. do you think you can get him some water, while I keep an eye on him?” Inaho questions, still holding the blond's hand in his own. Yagarai had mentioned that their guest had hidden from him upon waking up, and it does not seem the best idea to leave him alone with him again.

Yagarai smiles somewhat, pleased to see Inaho taking his new job seriously. “Of course, Kaizuka. I'll be right back.”

Inaho listens as Yagarai leaves the room, listens as his footsteps go faint, fainter, and then disappear after a moment. It is hard, scraping the candle wax off as gently as he can with the blond staring at him, like that. There are no attempts to pull away, no protests, complaints. Their guest is silent, and looks ready to fall asleep again if he were to lose his focus.

His fingernails hesitate when he gets closer to the blond's nail, where the skin is thinner. Accidentally hurting him seems an ill idea, when he is so calm now.

The two of them remain silent as Inaho removes the last of the wax, and he tries not to think about the familiar colour of the other's eyes. When he had fallen off the boat, he swallowed sea water the same colour as his eyes, and it left him sick.

When the wax is completely gone, in hardened, silky scraps on the floor, Inaho breaks eyes contact and takes the time to look over the blond's hands and wrists.

They are irritated, and he is not surprised. A few tiny red specks dot what normally seems to be pale white, and the bruises will take some time to come down. _He probably tried to free himself.._ Inaho figures, frowning at the thought.

The backs of the blond's hands, like his cheeks, are dotted with tiny, translucent scales, barely noticeable unless one looks closely. His fingers themselves seem to be free of scales, and seem fine, though his nails are visibly sharp and pointed. If he had wanted to hurt the pirates, he could have, easily. Where he had dipped his fingers into the wax, his nails are dyed a light, light shade of pink, due to the extra heat he had put them in. They will probably return to normal, soon.

 _He could be mistaken for a human,_ Inaho tells himself again, _He_ **was** _mistaken for a human. As long as I keep him covered, the crew will believe he is, too.._ “If you could at least give me your na–..” he starts to say, raising his head again. Freezing when the blond raises his free hand, he remains as still as he can, feeling the other's fingertips graze his ear, pushing his hair aside. _What.. is he..?_

The blond is quiet, curiosity still in his eyes.

Inaho relaxes when he feels the other linger over the cuff on the curve of his ear. Their guest’s ears are not pierced, nor is he wearing any jewelry of any kind; it makes sense that something as ordinary as an ear decoration intrigues him, though Inaho hopes the blond will not attempt to pull it off. The cuff is wrapped tightly around his helix to prevent it from falling or slipping off, but it would hurt if he tried. “.. name,” he says after a moment, hoping to both gain his attention and earn another response, “Can you understand that? ‘Name’?”

It does not cause Slaine to pull away. Instead, he only blinks, murmuring, “ _Ég skil ekki..”_

Whatever he said this time, however, did not sound like a question. “Can you speak Japanese?” Inaho tries, tensing up again when the blond rests his hand on his neck. “.. English?” he says after a second, the other's touch oddly cool; his temperature is slightly lower than that of the average human, though Inaho cannot be sure if that is a side-effect to dehydration, or simply just how he is.

No response, this time. The blond only stares at him.

 _I can't ask him anything. We can't communicate.._ Inaho realises, the thought upsetting. There are many questions he wants to ask, questions he had thought he would never ask, due to them being myth. It looks like that will have to wait, at least until they can figure out a means of understanding one another. He still does not move or pull away. He waits for the blond to do that himself.

And he does, after a moment. Pulling away, he gazes at his hand, rubbing his own fingers, seemingly looking for the wax that had coated them. He starts to scratch at where the wax had been, the feeling probably itchy or odd, but stops to look at his wrists. A frown flits across his features, and he gently rubs them with his thumb before holding them out, seemingly waiting for something. “ _Gjörðu svo vel? Hjálp?”_

Inaho blinks at the action, unsure of what to do. It seems as if the blond does not like the irritation, thought it, as well as the red specks, will go away with time. He _could_ perhaps give him some skin cream to speed up the process and prevent it from getting further irritated.. _But he might try to eat that, too,_ he thinks to himself, hesitating. Then again, he is closer now, and can stop him this time if he tries. “Wait,” he murmurs, taking a few steps backward, toward Yagarai's desk.

The desk is covered in papers, notes, most of them signed and dated and set aside, though a few have small diagrams and charts – _our medical records,_ Inaho realises after a moment. He tries to face the blond somewhat as he gently pushes the papers aside, looking for the small container of ointment he knows is somewhere here; he had seen it before, and has used it when he gets sunburnt. He pulls open a drawer, glancing into it. It is filled with more parchment, some vials of yellowish oil, and..

“Ah,” he breathes, pulling out a small, clear coloured disk filled with greenish-white cream. He takes it with him and opens it slowly, gently dipping his fingers into the cream before he shuts it and places it in his pocket, where the blond cannot reach it. “Here,” he murmurs, taking the blond's wrist in his hand, “This will help.” He is not sure why he is speaking, given the blond cannot understand, but perhaps the quiet, gentle tone will keep him calm, show him he means no harm.

Perhaps.

Gently rubbing the cream against the blond's wrist, he glances up at his face. The cream is also cool, cool against the blond's similarly cool skin, but it does not seem to bother him. He does the same to the other wrist, rubbing the cream in until the colour is gone and the cream is shiny against his skin. “There,” he murmurs, releasing the other.

The blond looks at his wrists again, gently smoothing where Inaho had rubbed the cream, rubbing his thumb against the 'odd' substance against his skin, and starts to bring his thumb to his lips again –

“Kaizuka junior?”

Turning their heads to the doorway, the duo find Yagarai holding two glasses in his hands, one more full of water than the other one. Inaho glances toward the blond as he starts to walk toward the doctor, blinking when he finds the blond dropping his gaze rather quickly, looking nervous.

 _He doesn't like him,_ he thinks, recalling what Yagarai had told him earlier, _But he’s fine with me. Perhaps it's because I helped him._

“How is he doing?” Yagarai asks, slowly making his way toward the cot. He is careful in his approach, and does not get too close, most likely in an attempt to keep the blond comfortable.

Inaho gets up and takes the glasses in each of his hands, “He’s.. dehydrated and confused. I tried speaking with him more, but he doesn't know Japanese. Or English.” _Because whatever he said sounds nothing like how Nina and Calm talk to each other,_ he tells himself, holding out one of the glasses for their guest. It takes a moment, but the blond takes it in both his hands, eyes flickering between the water inside and the officer before him. Making a motion for him to go ahead and drink it, Inaho waits as he stares at the other, relieved when he starts to drink from it normally.

Had he acted even odder in front of the doctor.. Yagarai might have wanted to check for a concussion, or for any head injury.

“I put some of that skin cream on wrists,” he continues, watching as the blond takes his time with the water, drinking it slowly, “He seems fine, other than that. And the candle didn’t burn him.”

It is almost as if the other does not want to spill or waste a single drop, which makes sense considering how parched me must be.

“The captain gave me permission to look after him, for now,” Inaho says, switching the glass with his own once the blond has finished, “I’ll be taking him to my room.”

“Just be careful,” Yagarai instructs, “We shouldn’t be too forceful with him, and let him recover from the bruising..”

“I’ll be gentle,” Inaho promises, unsure of how the blond would react if he were to be forceful, or accidentally hurt him. It seems their guest has some amount of trust for him, though it probably does not extend far; until he becomes more comfortable, they will all have to be careful with him.

When he is finished with his second glass, Inaho takes that one and sets it beside the other one on the drawer beside them. The candle’s light flickers behind them, slightly distorted by the glass, and Inaho is slow as he leans down, “Done?”

The question goes unanswered, confusion on the other’s features.

“I’ll be taking him, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order what Slaine says;  
> "What are you?"  
> "I don't understand.."  
> "Please? Help?"


	7. Chapter 7

“ _Done?”_

 _What did he say?_ Slaine wonders, confused. The glasses of water had helped him feel a little better, but they are not any closer to understanding each other, verbally. At least this one seemed to know just how parched he was, no thanks to the other creatures starving him of everything.

“ _I’ll be taking him, then,”_ the brunet continues, and Slaine immediately wraps his arms around the other’s neck, startled when he is picked up once again. Still, the other is oddly gentle with him, and it feels weird to be treated so delicately by anyone other than his family. Most people ignore him. And those other creatures had been painfully rough.

The fabric is still wrapped around him, and Slaine does not want to take it off. It seems the young creature shares his mindset, seeing as has not touched it the whole time he has been here. It keeps him covered, keeps his tail hidden from their eyes, and he has a feeling that the young creature is trying to hide that fact, too. Slaine feels something like gratefulness, and it eases his discomfort and fear to see that this one seems to care enough for him to give him some water, though it had tasted.. odd. With those two glasses, his throat does not hurt as much, and the stinging pain on his wrists feels better with that cool substance the brunet had put on his wrists.

“.. where are you taking me?” he asks, in spite of the multiple failed attempts now to speak with him. There could be, _maybe_ , a chance that the brunet will understand at least something he is saying.

“ _Mm?”_ The creature blinks as he adjusts Slaine, one hand at his waist, and the other hooked under his tail. The material does not move much as he does, murmuring, “ _I can’t understand you..”_

“I can’t understand you,” Slaine mumbles back, watching as the other’s eyes flicker between the glasses beside the orange mess, and he blinks in surprise when their eyes meet again. The resemblance really is similar, but.. Loosening his grip on the other’s neck, he pulls a hand away, allowing his fingers to trace the brunet’s skin. _Where are his gills..?_ he wonders. He had tried looking for them earlier, but had gotten distracted by that shiny thing on his ear, his _round_ ear, which had neither scales nor parts of a fin. Now, he has a chance to look for them again, though it is starting to look like he does not have any. The skin beneath his fingers is smooth, and there are no irregularities.. _But.. how do they breathe underwater..?_ he wonders, confused again, _How do they swim..?_

These creatures clearly do not have tails.

“ _What are you doing?”_

Slaine raises his head at the comment, meeting the creature’s eyes again. They are dark, and still empty, though there is a bare flicker of curiosity in them. Whatever he said sounded like a question, but Slaine is unsure of how to respond. Instead, he merely returns to looking for the brunet’s gills, resting his head against the other’s shoulder.

This creature is small. Petite. At a glance, it would be easy to mistake him for one of Slaine’s own people, but it is becoming increasingly clear that though there are similarities, they are not the same. As far as Slaine can tell, there are no physical deformities other than the missing gills and scales, and the differences between their ears.

“ _I'll be going, then, Doctor Yagarai.”_

Slaine ignores him, this time. Seeing as the young one has picked him up again, they are most likely leaving this room to go to another one; a nice thought, if it means no one else but this one will bother him. Even though this one has treated him kindly, he cannot assume all of them will be the same way.

“ _Alright. If you need anything, just ask. If he gets ill, come back here.”_

“ _Understood. I'll let you know if his condition changes.”_

 _They aren’t talking to me, anyway,_ he figures. Or they are, and their different languages are getting in the way of things. Raising his hand, he gently pulls at the brunet’s hair. It feels rougher than he is used to, and the action earns him another look from the other, though his features remain blank and stoic.

“ _Kaizuka junior?”_

“ _.. it's nothing. He isn't hurting me,”_ the younger creature says, shifting his gaze away yet again. He shakes his head this time, and something similar to a smile pulls at his lips, “ _It's fine.”_

Slaine finds himself taken aback by the sudden show of emotion, even though it is barely there. ‘A ghost of a smile’ is what he would consider the look on the creature's face, barely noticeable, barely even a smile, but just enough to show that he is not _broken_ , as he had originally thought; he had thought that perhaps this one was different, broken in some way. _Or perhaps he just isn't_ **as** _broken._

The brunet starts to move toward the doorway, still slow, still careful, just as he had been on their way over here.

Slaine cannot remember much else, and thinks that it must be due to him passing out. He ducks his head and hides his face when they pass the older man. One creature is enough; anymore, and he thinks he may become confused again, panicky. And should that happen, they might deem him a threat and lock him up again, leave him to fend for himself in a room too hard and too bright for him.

So.. this one, this young creature.. is enough.

_I wonder if I'll be able to go home, soon.._

 

 

The two of them are quiet as they move through the ship, and Slaine quickly realises that this ship is different than most of the ships he sees scattered on the bottom of the sea.

This one is bigger, much, _much_ bigger, and there are no chests full of objects lying around, no sparkly rocks.. It is _odd_ , to say the least, just like the creatures that are here. Unlike the ships under the ocean's surface, this one is brighter, thanks to the dancing lights in the cages that hang above them. They sway, the cages, slowly, back and forth, though Slaine is not quite sure why, and their light moves with them, illuminating the ship's halls, keeping the amount of light somewhat moderate.

They cannot see outside. This ship does not have any windows on the bottom level, and the hall is rather long, with only doors on each side. Many doors. It would seem that this ship has many, many rooms, more rooms than he had previously seen. The ships on the seafloor usually consist of a few rooms, and the bottom part is where all of the chests are, if there are any. He has seen one room with many, many windows, though they are usually broken, leaving scattered pieces of clear, hard shards on the wood and along the seafloor. The doors, too, are usually broken, worn down with age and – though he does not know it – rotting in the water. The wood under the sea is soft, not durable at all, but this ship does not seem to be weak. Perhaps, one day, this one will also end up on the bottom of the seabed.

“ _Eh? Inaho?”_

The creature stops at the voice, and Slaine tenses up.

That one sounds feminine, too, but it is different than the one he had heard before. This one sounds younger, softer, not as loud as the one from before. It is less authoritative.

“ _Nina,”_ the brunet murmurs, and still, his voice is soft.

Slaine raises his head, turning to look in front of them.

A blonde creature, a girl.

Slaine finds himself taken aback by her presence. On the other ship, he had not seen anyone pass him by, though he had heard them clamouring around.

“ _Ah..!”_ The blonde stares at him, eyes wide. They are a shade of green that is somewhat familiar, similar to the shiny rocks Slaine had found lying about, similar to seaweed. A smile makes its way to her lips, “ _Is that him? I wasn't on deck, but I hea–..”_ she starts to say, tone rising.

Slaine does not bother to hear the rest. Pressing his face firm to the brunet’s shoulder, he breathes out. The rise in tone and pitch is alarming, and he does not like it; she sounds far too excited in such a quiet, narrow area.

“ _Please lower your voice,”_ the brunet interrupts, his own voice firm, “ _He doesn’t seem to like loud things.”_

Slaine feels the other adjust his hand , feels it under his arm now. It is warm against his cool skin, too warm, but.. Hesitantly glancing upward, he looks over the brunet’s face, though the other does not look at him. _Is he.. trying to comfort me..?_

“ _Sorry,”_ the blonde says, and her tone is lower now, soft again, “ _Does he.. he doesn't speak?”_

“ _He does. But he doesn't speak Japanese. Or English.”_

 _They're talking to each other,_ Slaine realises, relaxing somewhat, _Not to me. They aren't speaking to me.._

The thought is relieving; he really does not want to try and communicate with anyone else; they cannot understand, anyway, and it would be easier to just try and get one of them to understand him. So he stays quiet, keeping out of their confusing, odd conversation.

“ _Oh..”_ The blonde sounds disappointed, now, though Slaine keeps his gaze purposely away from her. He hears her move, the floorboards creaking quietly under her. “ _Is he okay? He wasn't hurt, was he?”_

“ _He wasn't hurt,”_ the brunet murmurs, and for some reason, he sounds almost..

Slaine supposes this emotion would be _distant? detached?_

“ _I'm bringing him to my room. The captain said I could watch him until she decided what to do with him. Did you need something?”_

“ _No, I.. I was just going to my room, as well. It's nearly eleven, and the captain allowed me to rest.”_

“ _I see. Goodnight then, Nina. I'll see you in the morning,”_ the brunet says, and he starts to move again. He does not return his grip to the way it was, keeping his hand right where it is, warm and gentle, and..

Slaine supposes it _is_ comforting, in an odd way; he was never one to be quite used to touching others, not one to find it comforting. Usually, he finds it.. well, the _opposite_ of comforting. Him being touched is usually not a good thing, but his creature has yet to hurt him, so.. as long as the brunet continues to act this way, Slaine has no reason to act out.

“ _Goodnight.”_

Glancing at the blonde as they pass her, Slaine watches as she goes the other way, in the direction they came from. Her movements are also quiet, though with the two of them now, the hall sounds louder; he had not heard her before, distracted by his own thoughts, the ship.. Everything is still overwhelming. He has to remind himself to breathe, too, the air still dizzying, too strong for him.

She does not turn back around to glance at them, and the brunet does not stop again, nor turn to look at her, either.

Slaine wonders just how different this world is.

These creatures can move and he cannot, this world is brighter, colours shinier, more varied, and his own is dyed in dark shades blue and green with splashes of colour here and there. In this world, the water is below him, not all around him, and it is harder to breathe, more strenuous on the eyes.. and so far, he has seen unsunken ships crammed with odd creatures that are unable to speak his language. And it is loud. Much louder than it is down below.

“Where are we..?” he asks, voice just a bare whisper, barely audible in the halls.

It is low, just loud enough that only the brunet can hear him.

The creature does spare him a look, this time, a curious one. “ _You're more talkative than I expected,”_ he says.

A statement. That comment sounded like a statement, blunt, firm, but still soft and gentle.

 _I.. have to call him something.._ Slaine figures. Calling this.. _I'm still not sure what he is_.. a ' _creature_ ' does not seem entirely accurate. Fish are creatures. Some are scary, some are tame, and some are otherworldly. Thus creatures. But Slaine does not consider himself a creature, and since he and.. this.. _he's half of me, technically,_ he realises. They share something alike, the top halves of their bodies. He continues to gaze up at the brunet, musing, _He's on the small side.._

_Ah._

“I'm going to call you, ' _Lítill_ ',” he announces, smiling somewhat, proud of himself.

The brunet stops at that, stops moving to stare in what looks to be surprise. His empty eyes widen and something flickers in them – _surprise? shock? awe?_ – Slaine is not sure, but that is the second time an emotion flickers in him. “ _You're smiling,”_ he says, sounding surprised, “ _What did you say? Why are you smiling?”_

Slaine cocks his head somewhat, interested, now. “Why are you looking at me like that, _Lítill_?” he asks curiously, grip tightening on the brunet's shoulder when he readjusts him again, though this time because he was slipping. “Did you understand me?”

Lítill shakes his head somewhat, the emotion on his face flickering to that of confusion, though that small speck of light in his eyes does not disappear. “ _Why was he smiling..?”_

That comment is soft, softer than his usual ones.

 _He's talking to himself,_ Slaine realises, blinking when he suddenly resumes moving. They are nearing the end, _or perhaps this would be the beginning?_ of the hall, seeing as that was where the blonde came from, and there are only a few more doors left before the floorboards start to rise, and the ceiling also rises in the small area in front of them.

Steps. Steps leading upward, to where Slaine had been carried through before, most likely, the brighter area where it is even harder to breathe.

He glances to the side when the brunet starts to veer more toward the left, and watches curiously as he slowly comes to another stop, though this time in front of a door. His grip tightens even further when Lítill's grip tightens on him, and he instead wraps his arms around the brunet's neck, and he still almost falls when the brunet suddenly leans downward, his grip slackening.

Something clicks, softly, and Lítill straightens himself, Slaine unable to help but frown at him. “You almost dropped me,” he mumbles, earning another confused look.

“ _I'm sorry. Did I frighten you?”_ Lítill asks, tone almost.. _apologetic, perhaps?_

Slaine turns his head, and finds the door just slightly open. _He opened it? Is that why he leaned down? But he had trouble because he was holding me?_ he wonders, watching as Lítill opens it more with his elbow, pressing against the door to allow it to swing open. It sounds similar to an old clam opening – creaky and slow. Unlike a clam, however, there are no pearls in this room.

Peeking inside, Slaine blinks upon finding something similar to what he had been lying on before, except this one is wooden and bigger, covered in multiple layers of the soft, odd thing currently covering his bottom half, and coloured a dark blue. This one also has two rectangular, soft looking things lying upon it, and they look sort of fluffy, like sea foam.. There is a small wooden crate.. _thing_.. sitting beside it, with another one of those odd, falling apart objects on top of it. This one is white, taller, and it sits in a small, metal disc, staining the disc with solid pools of white. This one is not glowing, but there is a cage of the glowing light hanging in the middle of the room, swaying slowly, giving off a dim, warm glow. There is a larger wooden crate _thing_ at the corner of the room, littered with unfamiliar trinkets, shiny circular discs, and a few sea shells.

 _This must be his room,_ he realises. There are personal effects, possessions, and unlike the other room, this one only has one place to lie down. He is quiet as Lítill moves into the room, leaving the door open behind him; it would seem he does not want to almost drop Slaine again. He remains quiet when Lítill sets gently him down on top of the soft material, says nothing when the brunet hands him one of the sea foam soft things. “What is this?” he mumbles to himself, squeezing it. It does not break, and it feels soft against his fingers, against his chest; it springs back into its original shape seconds later, and Slaine is not sure whether to be appalled or awed.

Lítill leaves him alone temporarily, going back to shut the door. It shuts quietly, and then something clicks again, though Slaine does not really care at this point.

This world is intriguing. There are so many new things..

He blinks in surprise when the soft _thing_ he is sitting on sinks beside him, and looks over to find Lítill gazing at him with a curious look in his eye. “Lítill?”

“ _Can you write?”_


	8. Chapter 8

Upon locking his bedroom door, just in case someone tries to barge in late at night – he can recall _several_ people who would attempt such a thing, even though they are supposed to be sleeping – Inaho crosses in front of the blond and sits beside him, in the spot closest to the drawer beside his bed.

The blond does not seem to notice until the mattress sinks under them with their combined weights, and he gazes at him for a moment, blinking. “ _Lítill?”_

Inaho ignores the word for now, shaking his head. “Can you write?” he questions, mostly to himself; he knows communicating with the blond is near impossible, or at the very least, difficult.

He leans over, pulling open his drawer. Inside are several pieces of parchment as well as charcoal; he would give the blond a quill and ink, but.. he had not failed to notice their guest trying to lick the cream he had put on his wrists. Ingesting a tiny bit of candle wax might have been harmless, and he had failed to lick the cream.. but ink would probably make him sick. He is not taking any chances. Being _not_ human means exposing the blond to certain things, some of which could be dangerous.

“Here..” Inaho murmurs, pulling a piece of paper out, along with a small piece of charcoal.

The blond watches him; thankfully, he seems curious by nature, and Inaho does not have to steal his attention or earn it.

Inaho draws a tiny circle on the paper with the charcoal, glancing up to find the blond's teal eyes wide, visible surprise on his features. He hesitates for a moment, lowering the paper to take the blond's right hand in his own, helping him grip the charcoal, and then he raises the paper again. “Can you write?” he asks again, this time addressing the question to the blond.

The other stares at the paper for a moment, unable to let go of the charcoal with Inaho's gentle, but firm grip on his hand. He reaches forward, gently pressing the charcoal against the paper, and then stops again.

Inaho watches him carefully, noting the thoughtful look on his face. The blond had smiled earlier, too. It should not surprise him to see that the other has the normal array of emotion, but it does; the blond is an anomaly that no one thought existed. Feeling things other than fear, nervousness and curiosity is normal. _He was just reluctant to show it. Because he was frightened._

He stays quiet as the blond thinks, keeping his hand over the blond's, trying to steady him and prevent him from potentially eating the charcoal.

Then, very slowly, the blond starts to write –

 _Ah, no, he's drawing,_ Inaho realises seconds later.

Releasing the blond’s hand after he sees that he does not seem to need help, he simply watches. Though Inaho thought he would not be, it seems the other is quite familiar with the action. Odd, given that paper turns unusable under the water.

He leans against his bed's headboard, disappointed to see that the other is in fact drawing something out for him. He had been hoping a writing sample would help with figuring out what language the blond is speaking. They could have brought it to a scholar when they get back to the mainland, with the pirates.. Perhaps drawing him a circle gave him the wrong idea, but he doubts the other would understand Japanese characters.

So Inaho simply watches in silence, watches as the blond fills the paper with slow, meticulous lines and shapes that slowly start to resemble some kind of building. _His home?_ he wonders, _Is that what he's drawing?_

The blond pays no attention to him, now completely absorbed in his new task. The pillow still rests against his chest, and he leans against it somewhat as he draws with the paper against his lap, though it is uneven with him bundled up in the blanket. Still, he seems not to mind, or probably does not care.

 _That, or he doesn't realise,_ Inaho thinks to himself; the blond is obviously very ignorant of human things. The blond continues to draw on the parchment, and the building looks more like.. a castle, now. A giant castle, unlike any that he has seen, if Inaho is to judge solely based on the drawing. And it looks European styled, with tall walls, tall spires and towers..

The blond stops suddenly, holding the drawing out in front of him.

Another smile graces his lips, this one bigger, softer than the one before.

Inaho stays quiet, momentarily stunned once again. It is almost as if the blond himself is unaware that he is smiling; they seem small, in comparison to most other smiles. _I suppose.. he might be proud, again?_ He tenses up when the blond turns to look at him, meeting his eyes.

The blond stays still for a moment, and then holds the parchment out, saying softly, “ _Ég er frá sjó.”_

That comment.. sounded a little easier to understand, each word shorter than some of the other things he has said. Despite that, he still has no idea what the blond is trying to tell him. It seems like another statement.

Inaho takes the parchment after a moment, looking it over. It looks unfinished, though perhaps that was all the blond was able to recall about.. wherever this is supposed to be. Despite being unfinished, it still strongly resembles a castle, though he has never seen a castle like this anywhere, nor heard of one like this. The captain has talked about the castles in Europe before, and they sound nothing like this; that, and they are not surrounded by seaweed – at least, he believes it to be seaweed – and they are not in ruin. If he had to take a guess, this castle may have once been above land that slowly sunk into the sea. “Do you.. want to go home?” he asks quietly, unable to help himself.

The blond only blinks at his question, staring, looking confused once more.

Shaking his head, Inaho’s eyes flicker downward to the blond's hands. His fingers on his right hand are coated with black powder, something he will have to clean before going to bed. “Here..” he murmurs, flipping the paper over, revealing the blank side. _Maybe he'd like to do something else,_ he thinks, setting the paper down on the blanket.

The blond gazes at the blank side for a moment, seemingly thinking about what he should do next. He readjusts the paper and the charcoal, switching them between his hands; his fingers now leave smudges as he grips the parchment, leaving small, impartial fingerprints.

Inaho blinks at the action, watching as the blond just as easily starts another drawing, seeming to have no difficulty using his left hand, either. _So he's ambidextrous, then,_ he realises, leaning back against the headboard. An unusual trait. There are very few humans who have it to begin with, and yet this person.. Dark eyes lingering on the parchment, the brunet watches as the blond scribbles against the parchment, faster this time.

It.. does not look like anything Inaho has seen, before. At first it looks to be some kind of cannon, without wheels, but as the blond continues to add to it, it looks like some otherworldly craft. It very well could be, given the blond comes from elsewhere, but he is not sure they would need crafts to get around. The blond colours in most of it with the charcoal, only the bottom is left as a vague outline, and when he is finished colouring it in, he holds out both the charcoal and the parchment to the brunet, gazing at him again.

Inaho takes both of them carefully, gaze flickering between the blond and the paper; he wants to keep an eye on him until his hands are washed of the charcoal dust, but he also wants to try and figure out whatever it is the blond drew for him. “.. thank you,” he murmurs, setting the charcoal back in the drawer and the parchment on his lap. He wipes his own fingers on his pants, staining the blue with dark smudges of dusty black, and starts looking over the drawing. It.. still kind of looks like a cannon of some sort, though there do not appear to be any openings where the ball would be inserted, and he still is not quite sure what the bottom part would.. –

“Ah, no. Stop that,” he says, raising his head slightly to find the blond staring at his fingers. “Don't,” he says, very gently grabbing his wrists before the blond can lick off the dust, “The dust is bad for you.”

The blond blinks at the action, this time attempting to pull away.

_He doesn't like that._

“You can't..” Inaho mumbles, loosening his grip, trying not to seem aggressive, “You can't lick it.”

The blond stares at him, a frown starting to form on his features.

_He's upset._

The blond attempts to pull away again, rougher this time, though Inaho does not let go completely. “ _Hættu..”_ he mumbles, sounding.. _annoyed_? Given that look on his face, it seems he dislikes being manhandled when deemed unnecessary. “ _Lítill. Hættu.”_

Inaho blinks at that comment. That word, the 'L' one.. he has said it several times already. More so than the other words. Still, he is not sure what it means, and it does not sound familiar. He still sounds annoyed, and that second comment was more blunt. Hesitant, still careful, he exchanges his grip on the blond's wrist for his hands, still loosely holding him.

He does not want to upset the blond, even a little bit. It would mean losing what little trust they had earned together.

.. but.. he never really was good with handling people.

 _People calm down.. when someone is gentle and kind,_ he recalls, _And this particular person dislikes loud things and adults.. and he has varied responses to touch.._

So far, it seems he has no problem initiating touch. He _likes_ touching stuff, seems curious about everything.. but it seems he can get angry, too.

“I'm sorry,” Inaho apologises, with as much sincerity as he can muster – he _is_ sorry, but showing it is rather difficult for him. “But you.. you can't eat this..” he continues, using the same, gentle, quiet tone.

The blond blinks, seeming to have been taken by surprise by the sudden change in tone. It is much softer than usual, Inaho knows, and he is trying harder to be more soothing. The blond stops trying to pull away, though his gaze slips down to their hands, and his frown soon returns.

But he does not attempt to pull away again. “ _Hvað ert þú að gera?_ ”

Another question.. probably.

Perhaps something along the lines of, _'why are you touching me?'_

But again, Inaho cannot be one hundred percent sure. What the blond says and what he actually means are entirely up in the air. Inaho hesitates when the blond looks back up at him, starting to rub the charcoal off of his fingers, using the blanket to clean them off the dusty substance. He still moves slowly, being deliberate, trying to show the blond each one of his movements. _If he understands what I'm doing, he may be less upset,_ he figures, hoping that the blond does indeed understand. The dust comes off easily, though the blond's fingers are still coloured a light shade of black. He will have to wash them properly with water, when he gets a chance. He releases the blond's hands when he is finished, and watches him look them over again, frown slowly disappearing.

A flicker, for just a second, a flicker of understanding lights up in his eyes.

The blond continues to gaze at his hands for just a few moments, turning them over and gazing at his individual digits, inspecting them for the black powder that had coated them. His index, middle, and thumbnail are still painted a light orange from the wax, and now his skin has a grey tinge to it. After a few moments he grabs Inaho's hand, his own fingers still cool against Inaho's warm skin, and gazes at his fingers as well.

Inaho watches him, not pulling away or saying anything. His fingers, too, have a slight tinge of grey to them, but have less than the blond's; he had only touched the charcoal for, and had not gripped it tightly enough to get as much dust on his fingers. _He's comparing,_ he realises, _He really is curious about everything._

The blond lets go after a moment, gaze slipping to his lap.

And then, he starts pulling at the blanket. He seems to have some trouble unwrapping himself, the blanket a little tight at his waist, prompting Inaho to help him. When Inaho starts to pull at the other side, the blond raises his head, looking surprised. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, and then closes it, instead cocking his head as he gazes at the brunet. He stops messing with the blanket, raising his hands.

 _He wants help,_ Inaho realises, gently pulling away the blanket from the blond's waist, loosening it. The blond starts to help again after a second, pulling the blanket down to reveal more shiny, delicate looking ovals.

More scales.

The blond does not seem to mind Inaho gazing at him, probably not caring since this is how they saw each other first, anyway, and continues to pull at the blanket, leaning over somewhat to push the blanket off of him completely. Inaho raises his gaze to find the blond _beaming_ , smiling happily to himself, eyes lit up with relief.

Relief at.. what, exactly, Inaho is unsure. Relief that his tail is intact? That he is not hurt? That his scales seem to be all there?

It is hard to tell.

The blond gently smooths his lap, as if dusting himself off, and then he looks at his fingers again, looking at the black smudges.

Inaho takes this momentary distraction to look over the blond, not really having had the chance before; he had been busy making sure he was alright, untying him and bringing him here, making sure no one else realised he was not human..

Now, he supposes this person really _is_ a mermaid.

.. merman?

Merperson?

Nymph?

He is unsure of what the proper term is, considering that this person was thought to not even exist, but the blond _has_ to fall in one of those titles. The scales on his bottom half are a mix of varying shades of black, some silver, some white, and large amounts of deep purple. They are layered upon each other kind of like rose petals, each scale covering a bit of the one under it, covered a little by the scale above it..

 _Just like flower petals,_ Inaho cannot help but think again. The blond is still staring at his fingers, gaze flickering between his tail and his index.

Then, rather abruptly, he pulls on Inaho's hand, trying to earn his attention. “ _Líta á þetta,”_ he says, causing the brunet to very nearly jump in surprise.

Inaho gazes at him, dark eyes flickering from the blond's small smile to his tail, confused. _What is he trying to show me?_ he wonders, freezing up when the blond forces him – surprisingly gentle, still – to brush his fingers over the scales.

“ _Ég er týndur. Ég er frá sjó. Getur þú hjálpað mér?”_

Ah, that..

Inaho blinks, rendered speechless.

That is the most the blond has spoken, now. It sounded like it _could_ have been a question at the end, and clearly their being unable to communicate is not going to stop him from trying. “You're very determined to make this work,” he manages to say after a moment, relaxing into a small smile.

The blond stares at him, looking still rather happy, but fired up, now. He has a serious look in his teal eyes, and they are practically shimmering with determination.

Inaho stares back at him, wondering how they are going to be able to get this to work. No doubt, their guest wishes to go home, and Inaho will find some way to eventually return him to the sea without alerting their crew, but.. being unable to properly communicate, act only on wild guesses and inferences is difficult.

“ _Hjálpaðu mér?”_ the blond continues, slipping into a softer tone. He sounds pleading, now, and his smile slips. He does not let go of Inaho's hand, choosing to instead gently squeeze it; his grip still feels cool.

Inaho bites his bottom lip, frowning now. “I'm going to help you,” he promises. _As soon as I figure out how and what exactly it is you want.._ “I'm going to help you,” he says again, that time slipping into a barely audible tone. They will figure out a way, eventually, and hopefully he can manage to keep the blond's identity a secret until then. He is still curious about him, wants to know more, where he is from, how he lives, what language he speaks, if there are more people just like him..

Eventually, when they figure out a way to communicate, he will be able to ask anything he wants, and he will be able to help the blond, too.

Staring for a moment more before he smiles again, the blond visibly relaxes. It seems, even being unable to understand what Inaho says exactly, he understands the quiet tone as a good thing. _“Takk fyrir,”_ he murmurs, _“Ég skil ekki, en þakka þér.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, what Slaine says;  
> "I am from the sea."  
> "Stop." x2  
> "What are you doing?"  
> "Look at this."  
> "I'm lost. I am from the sea. Can you help me?"  
> "Help me?"  
> "Thank you."  
> "I don't understand, but thank you."


	9. Chapter 9

Slaine has decided to take a chance.

Despite them being unable to properly, _really_ understand each other, he will trust the brunet. They will be cordial. Friendly. Slaine will cooperate with him. There is no reason, yet, to be wary or hostile, and so long as the two of them continue on like this, he is more than willing to treat Lítill with the same gentle respect he has been shown.

And, since their ‘chat’.. Slaine has caught the other staring at him, multiple times now.

Currently, he is lying on the soft, wooden.. thing.. _It could be a bed,_ he realises, when he starts to think about his own bed back at the palace. His is a giant clam, a monstrous thing that is soft on the inside, perfectly suitable for sleeping. To other sea creatures, the clams might be dangerous, but they are rather docile and they do not seem upset by their mouths being used as beds.. In fact, they almost seem happy; in exchange for a bed and a comfortable place to sleep, they ensure they are well taken care of. This could be Lítill’s equivalent to a bed. It is soft, and the white, fluffy thing Slaine is using to rest his head and arms on feels kind of familiar, similar to a clam's foot.. It resembles sea foam.

 _Ah, but that's beside the point,_ Slaine tells himself, pressing his cheek further against the soft sea foam, _He's been staring at me for awhile, now._

Lítill is sitting beside him and gazing at him, pointedly, not bothering to hide the fact that he is staring. There is a curious sort of light in his dark eyes, but even though he _seems_ curious, he has yet to say anything, and he has not tried to touch him, either.

Slaine stares right back at him, remembering the smile that had been on his lips, earlier.

A _real_ smile, not like the trace of one he had seen the first time. He had not been expecting someone seemingly so empty to actually smile, but then again, he had not expected someone here to be so kind to him, so gentle, either. It seems Lítill is not so empty, after all, showing that he is fully capable of showing some emotion; perhaps he just has a hard time doing so. Lítill genuinely seems to want to help him, understanding what Slaine had tried to say to a minimal extent.

Offering him a warm smile, Slaine watches as Lítill's eyes widen again, and his breathing halts. _How odd,_ the blond thinks to himself, _Did he break again?_ He continues to stare up at the brunet, somewhat concerned. He is sure breathing is important to all lifeforms, and the brunet appears to have frozen up. “Hey.. Lítill..” he calls, causing the brunet to blink and shake his head, dark eyes slipping to the bed's foot.

He starts breathing again, slowly, runs a hand through his hair. “ _You're.. odd..”_

Slaine blinks at the quiet comment, confused. “Mm..?” he hums, though the brunet does not comment again. He watches as Lítill lies down after a moment, still slow, still careful with his movements, watches as he pulls up the blue, soft material on his side and settles down under it, lying on his stomach beside the blond. _He looks tired.._ he realises, continuing to stare at the other.

“ _You should sleep,”_ Lítill says, pulling the blue material up to his neck, over his head.

 _Is he cold?_ Slaine wonders, the gesture odd; he personally feels warm in the room, hence why he had wanted to remove the material covering his bottom half. Lítill had also removed the blue layers on his side of the bed upon seeing that Slaine had tried to do so himself, allowing the blond to relax in a slightly cooler room. “.. good night,” he says after a moment, assuming it is in fact late; he is not sure what time it is, sense of time still off.

“ _.. good night,”_ Lítill mumbles, softly, drowsily. His dark eyes slip shut, and his breathing eventually starts to slow. He goes still after a few moments, leaving Slaine awake to stare at him.

 _He must've.. been exhausted.._ Slaine realises, feeling guilty; today must have been an odd day, for both himself and Lítill; it is not every day one meets someone else of a completely different origin. Settling down, Slaine allows his eyes to shut, as well, still feeling weak.

Perhaps tomorrow, the brunet will get him more water and of food.


	10. Chapter 10

It takes Inaho longer to wake up than it usually does. Much longer. For a few moments, he cannot comprehend why there is quiet, unfamiliar, lovely humming in his usually wave-ridden room. Day and night alike, he usually hears the waves lapping against the ship, and he has grown used to it during his three years of his enlistment; it is just another part of his routine. But this..

The tune is foreign, to his ears. The notes are soft. Quiet. There are no words, just differently pitched hums..

Inaho’s eyes feel heavy as he listens to it. The will to wake up has left him, and if he wakes, the humming might stop..

_Oh._

Forcing himself to wake, he blinks his eyes into focus and slowly sits up.

The humming comes to a stop.

In front of him is the blond they had rescued yesterday, wide awake. _You were humming,_ he realises, swallowing lightly. Still drowsy, it takes him a moment to realise the blond is sitting at the foot of the bed, his tail folded under him. They catch each other's eyes again, and the blond looks curious, tilting his head. _He was humming,_ he tells himself again, _He was humming, and.. that could be very dangerous._

Gently pulling at his near-white hair, he stares back at the other. It looks like he might have been combing his hair before Inaho had woken up.

Inaho's thoughts start to trail off as he wonders how the blond has gotten up in the first place, recalling that he had fallen asleep when the other had been lying on his stomach. With enough upper body strength, he probably could have lifted himself up, but that is not really what he should be focusing on. “.. good morning,” he greets. His head feels fuzzy, off; the humming has disoriented him.

“ _Halló,”_ the blond returns with a small smile, polite.

Inaho blinks, taken by surprise. _That.. sounded like.._ Straightening himself somewhat, he leans forward, causing the blond to pull away in surprise at their proximity. “ **Hello** ,” he greets in English, and the way the blond's eyes light up with excitement is shocking; just a mere word, and his entire persona shifts.

“ _Getur þú talað íslensku?!”_ the blond asks excitedly, taking Inaho's hands in his own, “ _Hvað heitir þú? Ég heiti_ **Slaine** _. Hvaðan ertu? Gaman að hitta þig!”_

And just as suddenly as Inaho's hopes had come, they were gone.

 _That was_ **not** _English,_ he realises, gaze slipping somewhat. It should have been obvious, judging from the other things he had said, but.. That sounded like ' **hello** ', what Nina and Calm greet him with sometimes.

The blond’s smile is also fading away, excitement dulling as he realises what Inaho did: they do not share a whole language in common, and it seems as if they only have a few words between them.

Inaho stares at the other, starting to feel bad for having raised the other’s hopes. “Sorry,” he apologises. _I shouldn’t have done that._

The blond releases his hands after a few more moments of disappointed silence, shaking his head a few times.

 _Damn._ Inaho glances toward the door, wondering what he could do to make up for his small mistake. “I..” he starts to say, and the other raises his head to look at him, “I’ll.. be right back. I’ll get you some food.” _Which should help your mood and energy,_ he figures, hoping this does indeed cheer the blond up.

Confusion flickers across the blond's features once more, not understanding. “ _Hvað?”_

Inaho stares back at him for a moment, and then hands the blond the pillow he had been using, setting it down gently on his lap. “I’ll be right back,” he repeats, watching as the other hugs the pillow, interested in it again.

The words fall on deaf ears.

As he gets up and walks toward the door, he catches the other trying to open it up, pulling at the fabric with those sharp nails of his. _I hope he doesn’t break that.._ Inaho thinks to himself, frowning somewhat.

 

 

“Ah! Nao!! Good morning!”

Inaho is about to turn around when he is suddenly squeezed from behind, breath very nearly stolen from him. It is hard to breathe when there are arms around his shoulders and neck, hugging him tightly.

“Nao, Nao, how was he? Is he alright? He wasn't injured, was he?”

“Y.. Yuki-nee, please let.. let go of me..” Inaho manages to say, sucking in a breath when his older sister does just that. He straightens himself before turning to face her, cheeks flushed from the sudden shock and lack of air; both Yuki and Calm handle him with too much enthusiasm, disregarding the fact that he is smaller than them. He frowns up at her somewhat, trying to regain his composure. “Yuki-nee..”

The young woman only grins at him, waiting patiently for him to answer her questions. She brushes a tuft of hair behind her ear, “Well?”

“.. he's fine,” Inaho murmurs, “He sustained no injury, and he's staying with me until the captain decides what to do with him.”

“Eh?” Yuki blinks at that, taken by surprise. Her lighter brown eyes widen, and she raises an eyebrow. “He's in your room? With you? He slept with you? Wouldn't you rather have a girl..–”

“Yuki-nee,” Inaho warns, frowning up at her, then. The notion is inappropriate, _very_ inappropriate. He is not currently looking for romance, much less the type to be looking for it with a complete stranger they rescued from a pirate's hold; right now, his only priority is making the blond comfortable and safe, and if that means sharing a 'private' space with him, then so be it. Besides, the blond is not..

Yuki shakes her head, smile turning gentle, innocent. “Right. Sorry, Nao,” she apologises, looking genuinely sorry.

The brunet only makes a soft sound, gaze slipping; if things happen, then they happen, and they will happen on their own without him actively participating. “I'm going to get us food, Yuki-nee,” he says, gesturing behind him, toward where their cantina is, “Is that all you nee–..”

“Inaho?”

“Oh, Inaho!”

Inaho raises his head to find Inko, Calm and Nina approaching him. As he thought, they look just as curious as his sister. “.. good morning,” he greets, quiet, “I suppose you have questions as well?”

*

“Ah, so he's fine?” Calm asks, resting his head against his palm; he is sitting across from Inaho, all five of them having relocated to a table after Inko realised they were going to take up space in the hall and block the other crew members. He has already eaten, and had been waiting for the others to arrive; he actually managed to wake early today, eager to learn more about their new guest. They have not had a new crew member since they joined themselves three years ago.

“He's fine,” Inaho murmurs, nodding somewhat. He wants to return, positive that the blond is hungry. Even if he was only held for a day or so, he must be starving. At the very least, it has been twelve hours since he last ate. For now, he is eating his own breakfast as quickly as he can, and is waiting to order the blond’s meal until he is finished, wanting to ensure it is fresh. “He doesn’t understand Japanese..” he says after a moment, “or English. He’s foreign.” _In both definitions of the term._

“Foreign? Is he from the west?”

“I'm not sure,” Inaho says honestly; he is not sure which continent is closest to where the blond lives.. he could have been a victim of unfortunate circumstance, swimming in pirate waters. “He has an accent,” he says, turning his attention to his foreign friends, “The word ' **hello** ' is English, isn't it?”

“It is,” Nina answers, nodding, “Why? Did he say it?”

“He said something very similar. ' _Halló_ '. I thought it was English, but..” Inaho trails off, frowning somewhat.

“Has he said anything else?”

“Not that I recognise,” Inaho answers, shaking his head. He does not know English, only having learned a few of the most basic phrases from Nina and Calm; he still wanted to try, however, had been hoping that if the blond _was_ able to speak English, he could have brought in Nina or Calm to speak with him.

.. after, of course, calming him down enough so that he would be comfortable to meet another person. Although, his friends do not really resemble adults, either, so that fear may not be extended to them.. he had only hidden from Nina because she had been speaking loudly.

Inko gently taps her fingers against the table, gazing at the brunet. She had Nina are sitting on either side of Calm, with small bowls of porridge in front of them, as well as biscuits and some cooked fish. A standard meal made with their ample wheat and fish supply. “If he isn't Japanese or western, what was he doing out here?”

“.. I don't know,” Inaho murmurs.

Mermaids – or whatever the blond is, he still is not quite sure – were myth. Folklore. Fairy tale – a story to tell to children, to inspire or frighten them with the unknown. If they lived close to the surface, someone should have proved their existence by now, but they have not. If they lived in secluded areas, or deep under the sea in the ocean's depths.. that would make more sense. But if the blond does live in the ocean's depths.. then what was he doing so close to the water's surface?

“In the next town, we should ask if there were any people reported missing..” Inko murmurs, keeping her tone low, “Maybe he was a foreigner who was visiting..?”

Inaho stays quiet, not wanting to refute or reinforce the statement. He has no intentions of actively lying to his friends, does not want to do anymore than keep the blond's identity a secret.

Yuki hums quietly beside her younger brother, eating her own porridge. Her gaze flickers to the brunet, who is drinking the last bit of water in his glass. “Done, Nao? Are you leaving?” she asks, disappointed; with their new guest in Inaho's care, she will be unable to spend as much time with him.

“I have to bring him food,” Inaho says softly, though he understands her disappointment; he had only joined to be with her, after all. “Once he's situated and comfortable, I'll be able to leave him alone,” he offers, “I'll see you later.”

Yuki nods somewhat, smiling at that. “See you later, Nao,” she says, leaning over to peck his head.

“Later, Inaho!” Calm hums, politely waving at the brunet.

Inko and Nina offers him small smiles. “Bye,” Inko says.

“Good bye, Inaho.”

 

 

“I've brought you so–..” Inaho starts to say, slowly opening his door.

He cuts himself short upon seeing the blond sitting on the bed, covered in hundreds of tiny feathers, an equally shocked and confused look on his features. Biting back a sigh, the brunet carefully lets himself inside the room, a plate full of fish and a large glass of water in his hands; it had taken a bit to insist that porridge and biscuits were unnecessary, though the cook gave in upon him saying the blond needed protein.

“You broke it..” Inaho murmurs, shutting the door with his foot again. He walks over slowly, sets the plate and glass down on his nightstand, and then starts to reach out, fingers grazing the blond's hair just before he pulls away, blinking at his own action. “May I?” he murmurs, reaching out again, the blond only giving him an innocent, confused look.

“ _Því miður..”_ the blond says softly, gazing up at him, “ _Ertu í uppnámi?”_

Inaho blinks at the comment, noting how.. _sad_ the blond sounds. _Is he.. apologising?_ he wonders, feeling bad now. “It's fine,” he whispers, shaking his head somewhat, “You don't have to..” He trails off, not quite sure what else to say. Comforting people has never been his strongest quality, let alone someone who is extremely anxious and prone to panic. His friends are not so easily overwhelmed.

Still, it seems the blond has already relaxed, and he allows Inaho to pull the feathers from his hair. _I’ll have to get another pillow later on.._ he notes, setting the feathers on the bed, along with the torn pillow covering. Once finished, he sets the plate on the blond’s lap, watching as his eyes widen in surprise.

“ _Fiskur..”_ the blond murmurs, gently picking up one of the fish. He gazes at it for a few moments, seeming intrigued; it is cooked and seasoned, as Inaho was not sure whether or not the blond could or would eat raw fish.

Inaho pulls away completely, walking back toward the door to lock it again, watching the blond from afar..

.. and is taken by complete surprise when the blond opens his mouth to bite off a rather sizable chunk from the fish, revealing very, _very_ sharp canines. Until now, he had yet to open his mouth wide enough for Inaho to properly see his teeth, but now that he has seen them..

 _A siren,_ he tells himself, almost certain now, _He's a siren._

That would explain the humming, the teeth. In myth, sirens are the ones who lure people to sea and drown them, eat them, tear them apart with teeth as sharp as blades.

The blond does not seem to notice Inaho's surprise, happily eating the fish, only pausing to remove bones from his teeth. He sets the bones aside on the plate, and then sets the fish down again, pulling it apart with his fingers to easily remove the bones before he starts eating again.

Inaho watches him in silence, breath caught in his throat. _He had been bound and gagged for a reason,_ he realises; pirates usually do not gag hostages, choosing to merely keep them in the hold, and not even all of them are tied up. He slowly starts to walk back toward the blond, causing him to look up.

“ _Takk fyrir,”_ the blond says with a tiny smile, seeming happy, “ _Lítill.”_

Inaho only nods at that, unsure of what the blond is saying this time. Perhaps a greeting? Thanks? An expression of joy? He hesitates for a moment before sitting himself down beside the other, leaning against his headboard, the blond's gaze slipping back down to his plate. He had managed to get him four fish of medium size, something that should fill him up and re-energize him, and the large glass of water should re-hydrate him until lunch, where he will be sure to get him more.

His guest continues to pull out the bones, easily, seeming used to the chore, and picks apart the meat with his slender fingers, happily eating the seared fish, not seeming to mind that it is cooked; that, or perhaps he is so hungry, he is willing to eat anything. And Inaho sees his teeth again, sometimes. They look practically human, save for his exceptionally sharp canines that seem out of place. Other than fish, he must eat other things, since most of his teeth are still flat. He starts to wonder if the canines bother, if the blond has accidentally bitten himself or hurt the inside of his mouth.

The blond had indeed been bound and gagged for a reason, but..

The myths are probably not true. There is no proof. Perhaps sirens do not drown people. Perhaps they do not even interact with humans – which is starting to look more true by each passing minute given the blond's blissful ignorance – and perhaps they are not as dangerous as the tales say.

Perhaps he is not dangerous at all, and is every bit the frightened, innocent, kind person he seems to be. Perhaps he really had just been a victim of unfortunate circumstance.

Inaho manages a patient nod when the blond raises his head to look at him again, prompting him to continue eating, and continues watching in silence. The blond eats the fish rather quickly, continues to separate the bones from the meat, and even eats the head, only leaving the tail and the fins behind, another fact that surprises the brunet. _I.. suppose he isn't wasteful,_ he figures, continuing to stay quiet.

The blond does not scare him, rather.. Inaho finds himself more and more interested with each passing moment; every facet that comes to light is more interesting than the last. The humming, the singing, the blond's body and the way he may work and live under the water..

He wants to know more. He wants to learn everything.

And it would be so easy to ask and learn, if they could only understand each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, what Slaine says;  
> "Hello."  
> "You can speak Icelandic?!"  
> "What's your name? My name is Slaine. Where are you from? It's a pleasure to meet you!"  
> "What?"  
> "I'm sorry.."  
> "Are you upset?"  
> "Fish.."  
> "Thank you."


	11. Intermission

“Come here and stay still,” Slaine orders the jellyfish, though he keeps his tone soft, gentle. He holds his hands out, allowing the bioluminescent creature to drift closer to him. Its bell a sort of bluish-clear colour, faintly offering a dim, warm glow. It allows Slaine to smooth its hood, silent, a good sign; if it were angry, its tentacles would have started crackling with those painful electric shocks. He remembers how they feel, the shocks, having gotten stung by more than a few jellyfish in his attempts to befriend them. The marks disappear easily, thankfully; all he has to do is rub seaweed on the burns and rest for a few days.

The jellyfish respond rather well to quiet, simple commands, and though they do not have brains, they have managed to figure out that obeying him ends up with them being fed.

“Thank you..” Slaine tells the creature, continuing to pet it with one hand, reaching down with the other to grab a few shiny discs from the sand.

He found another ship, today. This one seemed exceptionally old, and it was falling apart, and the walls and floors seemed to be soft to the touch.. it seemed as if the barnacles and moss were eating away at it, slowly, though he could really care less about that. Today, he found more beautiful, shiny treasures. At least, that is what he has taken to calling the odd things he finds; he managed to haul an armful of shiny, hard rocks and discs away from the ship and to this lone, deserted area. This jellyfish, which he calls simply 'Ljós', often roams this particular area, and is rather helpful when he wants to test the shine on his newfound treasures.

“Ljós, stay,” he orders again, holding his free hand out in front of him. These discs are not as shiny as the others, covered in some slimy, greenish moss that dulls their sheen.

The discovery is.. disappointing.

Slaine likes shiny things, things that glow, sparkle, glimmer, have any sort of sheen to them. He finds himself utterly fascinated by them. He likes the pearls that the clams produce, likes how polished they are, how they catch the light, he likes glass, the shards, the pieces, likes the crumbling marble palace he lives in.

But these new treasures are worthless. He will probably just give them to some trader in the city rather than keeping them for himself, like he usually does.

Frowning somewhat, he gently pets the jellyfish for a few moments more before pulling away, watching as Ljós slowly drifts away, taking its light with it; it does not matter, Slaine can see in the dark, anyway, but he cannot see the shine in the dark, even with his adapted eyes. He gathers up the treasures in his arms and makes his way back to the sunken ship, intending to deposit the rocks and discs in a large box that he had found in some lone corner. The box is not made of wood, was not soft to the touch, and was in fact rather cold and hard when he found it. It seemed to be made of another material, perfect for transporting the treasures back to the city without the container falling apart on the way there.

He makes a mental note to keep the box for his future excursions.

 

 

Slaine hums quietly to himself as he empties the box, throwing out the odd, heavy, black pearl shaped things he finds inside. They are heavy, too heavy, and they are rather ugly in Slaine's eyes. He has no use for them. It would be better to discard them now and lighten his load.

“Eh?”

His fingers hesitate against something of a different material, this one smoother, and porous and..

He reaches down and pulls it out of the box, holding it out in front of him.

Bone.

This material is bone, bleached white and yellowed with age, riddled with hundreds of tiny holes where the water has eaten at it.

Slaine frowns as he gazes at it, humming coming to a stop. He has seen bone before, touched it, but the only bones he has seen are unfamiliar, belonging to odd creatures of some kind or familiar ones belonging to fish and various other sea-life.

But this particular piece.. almost looks like..

He sets it very gently back in the box, deciding to bring it with him. The barnacles have left it alone, and it is not covered in moss; the fish will not miss it, their homes among the other bones that scatter the other shipwrecks and the ocean floor. Someone has to know what this particular bone belongs to.

* * *

 

Harklight is not sure what to think when he finds the child he has been tasked with caring for holding a skull in front of him, examining it carefully, those big blue-green eyes of his practically lit up with curiosity. The skull looks old, bleached white and slightly yellowed with age.. it is also porous, probably due to being in the water for a long time, and Slaine does not seem the least disgusted by it, despite it looking rather..

Shaking his head somewhat, Harklight manages to call quietly, “Slaine..?” He is not sure whether to be shocked or happy when the child flashes him a bright smile.

“Harklight!” Slaine calls happily, setting the skull down on the clam's foot, gingerly, gently. It is odd to see him be so gentle with such an object. “Harklight, I've been waiting for you! Come, sit.”

The teenager approaches him slowly, hesitantly lowering himself onto the clam's soft foot beside the blond. “Are.. you alright?” he asks, “You went out again today..”

“I'm fine,” Slaine beams, nodding, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“.. alright. Go ahead, Slaine,” Harklight prompts softly, keeping his tone soft and even for the youth. He does not want to startle him.

“What is this?” Slaine asks, picking the skull back up, still gentle, “It.. doesn't seem to belong to a sea creature.. but it's made of bone..”

Harklight hesitates again. “It's.. a skull. You know, the head part of organisms?” he says carefully, earning a curious look; he does not want to inadvertently divulge too much information, lest Slaine learns something he is not supposed to.

“A.. skull?” the blond repeats, “What does it belong to? One of us? It.. looks sort of like us..”

“No,” Harklight says quickly, shaking his head. He pauses, gaze flickering to the metal container beside Slaine's bed. “I mean.. it belongs to a creature, Slaine. An unimportant, insignificant creature,” he says after a moment, forcing a smile, “Why don't we talk about the metal container you've brought back, instead?”

“.. metal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh, sorry for the delay! I had to deal with that hurricane and I haven't had many chances to work on this since.. I hope you enjoyed this short intermission chapter, instead! future chapters will be a bit more delayed until I'm able to start working on them properly again..


	12. Chapter 12

When the blond has finished with his food, Inaho takes the plate away from him, watching for a moment as the other licks the salt and pepper off of his fingers. It seems he had enjoyed the meal, despite it being different than what he is used to, and some of his energy has returned. Setting the plate down on the nightstand, he hands the glass of water to the blond, and continues to stay quiet.

The feathers littering his bed and floorboards are too numerous; there had been far more feathers inside the pillow than he had originally thought. The blond must have torn it open with so much force that it send the feathers flying _everywhere_.. Which begs the question.. How strong is he, really?

The blond sips slowly from the glass, carefully; he still does not want to lose any precious drops, and given it seems he understands he will be brought food and water, he is taking his time. He downs it after a couple of minutes, and his own gaze slips to the floor, where the feathers are.

Inaho shifts.

_A siren._

Sirens are the most dangerous, when it comes to the myths. It had not been on the short list he had come up with last night, but.. Now that he gives it more thought, it feels as if sirens should look different than his guest. From what he has heard, they are beings similar to mermaids, in that they use song to kidnap people at sea, but he has never seen a drawing of a siren. Mermaids are not supposed to actually be attractive, either; the myths that he has heard often speak of **ningyo** who resemble demons, sometimes. They appear as fish with human heads, fish with shiny, gorgeous golden scales, creatures with bird-like heads and wings.. He had been told at a young age to release such a thing if he ever caught one, that eating the flesh of a **ningyo** would render one eternally beautiful and young, and –

“Ah..” Inaho pauses at the thought, raising his head to look at the blond again, who is running his thumb along the cup's edge. _What were they going to do with him?_ he wonders. The thought had not even occurred to him before, but.. now that he does not have to worry over the blond, he has some time to ponder, and.. _They brought and kept him on board to do_ **what** _with him?_

“ _Lítill?”_

Inaho blinks, realising that the blond had caught him staring. “Sorry,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. The other is still smoothing the glass’ edge. The action must be soothing, or maybe he likes how it feels against his thumb. Either way, he seems calmer now that he has eaten and drunk water, and some of colour has already returned to his face; a few more days, and he will be healthy again.

Japanese fish-people are not depicted as beautiful, usually. They are monstrous, and they are more fish than human. In fact, western fish-people are usually the more attractive ones, being creatures of exquisite beauty, completely unlike **ningyo**. The blond more than likely falls under the western standard.

Inaho still has some doubts. The blond _could_ be a siren, there is a definite possibility, but to rule out other things based on a few guesses would be foolish. The blond could be something else entirely, and Inaho could be mistaken.

Right now, the most important things are figuring out how to get this person home as quickly as possible, and figuring out what the pirates had been intending to do with him. Had the _Wadatsumi_ crew not intervened.. The pirates could have been planning to eat him, to try and achieve immortality. Or sell him, or.. –

His thoughts are cut off when he feels something pulling at his sleeve, and he looks down to find the blond's fingers gently pulling at his arm. Inaho raises his head, meeting the blond's curious blue-green eyes, “Yes?”

“ _Lítill?”_ the blond asks, gazing at him for a moment, cocking his head, “ _Lítill?”_

Blinking at the repeated 'L' word, Inaho finds himself perplexed. That word, that specific one, the blond has used it multiple times now, much more than the other words, but Inaho is still unsure as to what it might mean; perhaps something he uses to get attention? A term?

“Yes?” he asks again, keeping his own tone soft to match the blond's.

The blond slowly holds the glass out, releasing his arm. “ _Vatn?”_ he asks, nodding when Inaho takes the cup from him, continuing, “ _Get ég fengið glas af vatn?”_

Inaho grasps the glass carefully, staying still as the blond forces him to grasp the cup tighter, gazing at it.

“ _Mig vantar vatn,”_ the blond says, different words with that same singular word he had just used.

'Vatn'.

Thankfully, Inaho has more context to go on this time, allowing him to take a guess as to what the blond wants. _More water,_ he thinks to himself, nodding, _He must still be dehydrated._

The acknowledgment earns him a small smile from the blond, who almost seems relieved. “ _Máltíðin var ljúffeng,”_ he says, allowing himself to lie down against Inaho's good pillow, which he gathers up and hugs to his chest, “ _Takk fyrir, Lítill.”_

And Inaho still cannot understand when he stands up, but he thinks the blond may have thanked him.

 

 

“Can I have another glass of water?” Inaho asks, setting the blond's cup down on the bar, gently pushing it closer to the other end, “He's still a bit dehydrated, and he needs..”

“Kaizuka junior?” a familiar voice calls, followed by heavy, echoing steps.

Inaho turns to find Magbaredge standing at the doorway, a pensive look on her face that he has come to recognise; usually, that particular look is reserved for him, as the crew as told him, as he is the only person who stresses her out with all his questions, actions and requests. “Captain,” he greets her, “Good morning.”

Magbaredge shifts her weight, gazing at the brunet for a moment before gesturing behind her, “Let's discuss your request further, Kaizuka. I assume by now you've been able to see what he's like?”

“Yes,” Inaho answers with a nod, “I have.”

“Good. Then we'll discuss him further as we take a walk,” Magbaredge says easily, standing motionless as the brunet slowly approaches her, “I'll listen and consider your statements before I make a final decision.”

 

 

“He's foreign,” Inaho says, keeping his tone quiet as they walk around the ship's deck.

Normally, they would have discussed this elsewhere, in a private room. Now that they are on deck, they have a clear view of the pirate's ship that is following after them, something Magbaredge wanted to monitor, no doubt. They are not a big threat with all their weaponry confiscated, but considering their leader lies in one of the _Wadatsumi's_ cells.. they are probably angry. The crew will have to stay on guard until they reach the mainland.

“Which country?” Magbaredge questions. Inaho's intelligence and knowledge of rather obscure or detailed things is something they have come to use sometimes. Although.. the captain and everyone else had realised rather quickly, within the first three months of his enlistment, that his intelligence makes him rather.. dangerous. Useful, and a good man to have on board, but wildly unpredictable.

“I.. don't know, yet,” he admits, shaking his head somewhat.

If their guest were human – _completely_ human – he would be able to guess easier, but he is not sure if his genes act like human ones, point to a possible point of origin based simply on hair, eye and skin colour. If he were human, he would say..

“Possibly.. somewhere in the north. Pale hair and skin is more common in the northern regions, near Europe or Russia..” he offers, “I doubt that the pirates went all the way to the north, however. It is more likely he was in the area near here.”

“Does he speak Japanese? Or English?”

“No. He's been using a different language,” he answers, frowning to himself.

Even if the blond _is_ from the north, that still leaves them with dozens of countries, most with different languages, too many to choose from until they at least get a handwriting sample or someone is able to identify what he is speaking. He is not sure whether or not he should tell the captain about the drawings; they may lead her to believe something else even further away from the truth than she currently is.

 _It would probably be best to keep that to myself,_ he figures, raising his head to gaze at the sea, _Perhaps I'll try drawing something for him, this time.._

“And you still wish to keep him under your care?” she asks, still sounding unsure about that. It would be better if he stayed with the doctor, someone who is actually trained to care for others.

“.. yes,” he says after a moment, looking up at her, now. He pauses for a moment, and then says, “I don't think he likes the presence of adults; when Yagarai was in the room with us, he seemed uncomfortable and nervous. I don't believe it would be good for his mental health if he were to be kept somewhere else, if he's only going to be frightened.” He pauses again, allowing the statement to sit for in the captain's mind, and then continues, “He wasn't injured. The pirates left him alone, and it doesn't look as if he's received proper nourishment, either. He was kept in their hold for an unknown period of time, and it seems to have resulted in him being sensitive to loud noises.”

Magbaredge hums thoughtfully at that, staying quiet as she gazes out at the other ship, green eyes narrowed as she considers what Inaho has said so far; since enlisting the young officer has given her things to think about, whether she wants to or not, making her job more difficult. Still, the brunet is a good crew member, and he has not done anything _terrible_.. “Is that all?” she asks.

“.. there's..” Inaho mumbles, hesitating.

“There's what?”

“He.. can't walk,” he says after a moment, gaze slipping; it is not a lie, the blond truly cannot walk, and he was not sure whether or not to say so. Carrying the blond everywhere might seem odd, especially after his health has returned.

The captain's breath catches at the admission. “Are you positive?”

“I'm positive,” he murmurs, nodding somewhat.

There is no possible way the blond can move around by himself on the surface, unless he crawls, and even then it might be difficult for him. Getting that out now may help in the long run, may aid in keeping the blond's secret just that for a little longer. He makes a note to dress the blond when he gets back.

“.. I see,” she says, more to herself than to the brunet.

They are silent for a moment, and Inaho wonders if that last comment was too much; he does not feel guilty considering the blond is not entirely human, but.. considering that disabilities to humans are life changing and thought to be hard to handle.. Magbaredge may consider a harsher punishment to the pirates for kidnapping someone seemingly unable to fend for themselves.

And, well.. they may deserve it. Kidnapping is still kidnapping, even if the person is not entirely human. That, and the blond cannot be much older than Inaho currently is, given his looks and somewhat childish mindset.

He will consider his own thoughts at length at a later time.

“.. very well, Kaizuka,” Magbaredge finally says with a small nod, “Until we get to the mainland, he will be under your care. Once we arrive, we'll think about it further. He must be considered missing somewhere, and we shall look for his family upon arrival. Understood?”

“Understood. Thank you, captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, what Slaine says;  
> "Water?"  
> "May I have a glass of water?"  
> "I need water."  
> "The meal was delicious.  
> "Thank you."


	13. Chapter 13

Slaine feels guilty as he gazes at the odd, soft, thin _things_ that litter Lítill’s bed. He could feel them through whatever had been covering them, and was not quite sure how to get to them, which led to him opening it with such force that it..

.. it had exploded, like a squid squirting ink. It had startled him, a great deal, though he had calmed down by the time Lítill had come back, but he was still confused to find these.. _things_ inside, not having expected them to be so delicate. The little things had gone _everywhere_ , much to his fright, and though Lítill had not looked mad at him for ripping the sea foam apart.. he _had_ seemed disappointed.

Slaine could not help but apologise. If he could put it back together, he would, but it seems like he cannot. He had broken it, and it is irreparable the way it is, now.

Still, Lítill did not seem _terribly_ disappointed with him, which had come as a relief, and he had even come back with food and water. The fish had tasted good, though it felt odd on his tongue, all warmed up and sprinkled with those odd flecks that also held some taste. But if this is what the food is like here, then he does not mind so much. The water also tastes odd, but still good, and he feels better, now. Four fish is much more than he expected to receive.

Lítill seemed to understand when he asked for more water, and hopefully he will return with another glassful. Slaine gently squeezes the other sea foam to his chest, trying to be gentle with it; he does not want to break this one and disappoint Lítill again. He will be more careful.

Humming softly to himself as he gazes at the wooden walls of the ship, he waits patiently for Lítill to return.

 

 

When the door opens again, Slaine is startled; his sense of time is still off, and he is not sure how long the brunet was gone. He must have dozed off, because he finds himself gently rubbing his eyes as he sits up.

“ _Were you napping?”_

Slaine turns his head, gaze flickering upward to find Lítill standing in the doorway with another glassful of water. “Oh, you..”

Shutting the door behind himself, Lítill does something to the knob, causing it to click softly in the near-silent room. “ _I brought you more water..”_ he murmurs, and his voice is still soft, still gentle; it is calming, and hopefully he will continue to speak that way. He still looks empty, but a little less empty. Maybe he will fill up more as time passes. He moves toward Slaine, slowly, and sits back down on the bed beside him, handing him the glass. “ _Was this what you wanted?”_

Slaine gazes at him for a moment before taking the glass, unsure of what the brunet is saying, but it sounds like a question. “You got me water,” he says instead, offering the brunet a small, grateful smile, “Thank you, Lítill.” He starts to drink it, slowly, carefully, the glass still odd in his hands; he feels like sometimes it will slip through his fingers if he is not cautious enough. He stays quiet as Lítill starts to pull open the wooden crate thing beside his bed, pulling out another dusty black stick and a flimsy piece of.. something. _Does he want me to draw him another picture?_ he wonders, watching the other seemingly wait, _I don't know what else I'd draw.._

He continues to sip from the glass slowly, though he pulls it away from his lips when he sees Lítill start to scribble against the flimsy material, and lets the glass rest on his lap a few moments after that, distracted now. _He's going to draw_ **me** _a picture?_ he realises, taken by surprise.

“ _You.. like fish, don't you? Sea-life?”_

Blinking, the blond raises his head just enough to find Lítill gazing at him, a look similar to curiosity on his features. His grip on the glass tightens and he asks, “What?”

Lítill shakes his head and continues to draw, allowing his gaze to slip back to the flimsy material against his lap. The dusty stick still sounds odd against the material, almost echoing in the room; it reminds Slaine of when he used to draw against slabs of rock, scratchy, not all that pleasant, but familiar. The trails the dust leaves are uneven, and slowly start to form an elongated, small oval, dust trails on the top, thin, shaky lines, and then a small sort of triangle shape at the end..

“Oh,” Slaine murmurs, and Lítill looks back up at him again, a light in his eyes.

Hope.

That particular emotion is definitely hope.

And right now, Lítill is waiting for a reaction.

“That's.. a fish,” Slaine says softly, “You drew a fish.” He manages a small smile, and earns a faint one in return, one that matches the tiny light in Lítill's dark eyes. _His drawing.. looks kind of childish, but.._

“ _Fiskur?”_ Lítill repeats, and Slaine nods somewhat, lighting up himself.

 _He wants to understand,_ the blond realises, more than happy to try this new approach; perhaps this will lead to better results. _This could work,_ he thinks to himself, gazing back at the brunet.

“ _That.. means ‘fish’, then,”_ Lítill murmurs, and the comment sounds more like he is speaking to himself, given how low it is. His gaze slips back to his drawing, and he slowly starts to draw something else. His fingers leave spots and flecks on the flimsy material, black dust staining the off-white. This time, he draws a clumsy semicircle, and then something fluffy extending out from under it, wispy, sort of like..

“A jellyfish,” Slaine says, causing the brunet to look up at him again. Lítill gazes at him expectantly, presumably waiting for a repeat of the word. “Jellyfish,” the blond offers, reaching over and tracing his finger over the drawing; the glass nearly slips from his other hand, and he pulls away just as quickly, startled.

Lítill's gaze flickers toward the glass, though he looks away once Slaine has readjusted it in his hands; condensation is starting to coat the glass on the outside, making it slippery. “ _Mar..gly..”_ he starts to say slowly, though the word sounds odd in his tongue; his accent makes it sound off.

“Jellyfish,” Slaine offers again, patiently.

Though it would be nice if they were to meet a mutual understanding of sorts, able to understand each other on a basic level, he is not in a hurry to force anything. Eventually, he is sure, Lítill will help him return to sea once he understands – if he does not already, though his physical appearance suggests as much – that he is in fact from the sea.

 _When I return, I'll have to tell Harklight about these beings,_ he thinks to himself, _It wouldn't be good if the others were to end up captured by the other ones on the other ship.._

“ _Marg.. lyttur..?”_ Lítill says after a moment, sounding hesitant.

Slaine nods, wondering if perhaps _he_ is the one that sounds foreign to Lítill's ears; this must be what learning something completely foreign and different is like.

It.. is kind of like trying to breathe. The air is still heavy here, and though Slaine still feels woozy from the sudden increase in oxygen, he is learning, slowly, carefully, how to regulate his breathing. His chest still feels kind of tight, head still kind of heavy, but he is adjusting.

He is adjusting, just like Lítill is trying to.

The blond smiles, and Lítill continues to gaze at him, dark eyes curious. “What?” he asks softly, staring back at the other, “Is something wrong?”

“ _You smile a lot,”_ Lítill murmurs, and his voice is still soft, still quiet, still gentle, and though Slaine is unsure of what comment the brunet made this time, it seems to have been a kinder one.

Hesitantly raising the glass back to his lips, Slaine starts to sip from it slowly again, not sure what else to say. Lítill seems to be finished drawing, also going quiet as he returns the dusty stick and the flimsy material to the wooden crate, pushing it shut quietly, slowly.

Every motion is still deliberate, still precise, sort of like..

_He's.. sort of like.. a crab stacking rocks for its home.._

Meticulous.

Lítill.. seems more of a technical being, rather than an emotional one.

Slaine stays quiet as Lítill wipes his fingers with the blue, soft material on the bed, cleaning them of the black dust and staining the blue with dark spots of black; the same thing he had done to Slaine, after he had finished drawing. The action had annoyed him, initially, as he had been unsure of why Lítill suddenly grabbed him.

He continues to stay quiet as Lítill gets up and crosses over in front of one of the larger wooden things, and this one resembles a chest more than the smaller one; it has the same opening mechanism as the other one, a small sort of knob on the front of it, though it seems dull and worn.. it must be older than the rest of Lítill's affects. Lítill starts to sift through it, tossing aside what looks to be flimsy material similar to what is covering his chest and bottom half, and up until now, Slaine had not given that little fact much thought.

 _He's all covered up,_ Slaine realises, _His chest, and his bottom half.. he is covered in many layers._

The thought _why?_ crosses his mind for just a second before he recalls that the brunet had pulled up the soft, blue material to cover him when they had gone to sleep. _He'd been cold,_ he remembers, _Are they colder? Does he not retain warmth?_

He had noticed, the further he had gone up and away from the palace, the warmer and warmer it got.. _everything_ had increased, to a near unbearable state; the light, the warmth, the oxygen.. there just seems to be more up here.

Perhaps these beings are not fine tuned to this world, either, if Slaine is to consider the brunet a prime example. The other ones had been covered, too, in longer, more flashy material.

Lítill is covered in white and a deep blue.

“ _Here..”_

Lifting his head somewhat at the quiet murmur, Slaine rests the glass on his lap again, tensing up when the brunet turns and holds up something; this particular material is a deep blue. “What.. are you doing?” he asks curiously; the brunet is already wearing enough layers, and he is still not entirely sure that is a good thing. It is, after all, rather warm in here.

Lítill might pass out if he puts on any more. “ _I told the captain you couldn't walk..”_ he murmurs, and his tone is still low.. almost _worried_ , now? “ _If she asks to see you, that might be a problem.. it'd be better if you were covered up. I can at least provide some facts based on that..”_

Slaine blinks when the brunet very gently takes the glass away from him, watches as he sets it down on the wooden crate beside the bed. “What're you doing?” he asks again, more wary now. They gaze at each other for a moment, and Lítill seems to be aware of his nerves because he hesitates, now, stays motionless for a moment.

“ _You don't want to be dressed?”_

Slaine continues to stare at the other, blinking when Lítill holds out his hand. Slaine reflexively gives his hand to him, only realising what he has done until he raises his head to find the brunet almost _smiling_ at him. “Damn it,” he mumbles to himself, frowning at the other.

Lítill waits, patiently for a moment, before he gently starts to pull the material over Slaine's hand an arm, and the blond immediately realises it is different, soft against his skin and thinner than the material he had been wrapped up in before. “ _This.. should fit you.. it's kind of big..”_

He trails off quietly, and Slaine watches him, remaining static; Lítill is still treating him delicately, gingerly, and though his actions may be odd, they are not alarming.. _yet_. Lítill does the same to his other arm, pulling the material over it. It rests on his arms, shoulders, back, feeling odd and somewhat uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

 _Another thing to get used to,_ the blond supposes. Perhaps _not_ being covered here is a problem?

The material reaches to about half of his palm, and then cuts off, leaving his fingers and the rest of his hand exposed. Slaine holds his hand out somewhat, gazing at it; the deep blue looks.. odd, against his skin. Lítill leans down some more and messes with something on the material at his chest, and Slaine catches sight of something circular and darkly coloured, much like the wood of some of the ships he has seen. The blond watches in silence, staying still, allowing the brunet to continue until he completely pulls away, nodding somewhat.

“ _The buttons should keep you occupied. Though I wouldn't be surprised if you ripped this apart, as well..”_ Lítill murmurs, trailing off again.

Slaine ignores him for now, too distracted by the wooden things attached to the material. He pulls at them, gently, trying not to break an additional item that belongs to the brunet. The wooden things are decorated with intricate designs, similar to what some of the others like to carve into rocks, and whatever they were etched with, the tool left them shiny. “Pretty..” he says softly, completely interested in this new item, now. If he gets a chance, he will be sure to take at least one of the wooden things back with him.. from a different material, of course; perhaps from something nobody will miss.

“ _Stay here, okay?”_

Slaine raises his head at that, and catches the brunet staring at him, “What?”

Lítill shakes his head and gestures to the door. “ _I'll be back, later..”_

Staring, the blond watches as the other slowly moves toward the door, and it clicks again, softly, and the door swings open after a moment. He relaxes somewhat upon earning no reaction from the blond and lets himself outside, shutting it upon entering the hall.

Slaine hears it click for a third time, a dull, still echoey sound, and he blinks upon realising he has been left alone again. _Perhaps he's.. busy..?_


	14. Chapter 14

“Stay here, okay?” Inaho tells the blond, who looks up at him this time, visibly confused.

For more than a few moments, the blond had been focused pointedly on the button, seeming especially interested in the small, simple item. It seems they really do not have ‘normal’ items in the sea. The button would probably rot once it hit the bottom, or be carried off by fish. Perhaps they only come into contact with things that get discarded or lost – they _have_ to, given how intelligent the blond seems to be.

Given he cannot speak properly to him and ask him things, Inaho must assume the others are just as intelligent as the blond is. They must all be similar, to some extend. Able to communicate, even if in a different language, exhibit a wide array of emotions.. If it were not for the fact that he had a tail instead of legs, the blond could very well be human. Though some of his mannerisms are childish, he seems mature enough for what Inaho assumes his age to be, able to remain relatively calm and not lash out like a child with a temper.

The blond rests his hands against the mattress, fingers digging into it. “ _Hvað?”_

Gesturing toward the door, Inaho slowly starts to walk backward to it, saying softly, “I'll be back later..” He keeps his eyes on the blond, brown lingering on curious blue-green, and the blond stares right back at him. Inaho manages to unlock the door with the key on his wrist, not quite looking at it as he does, and hears the lock quietly click, a dull sound, and turns the knob, allowing it to swing open.

The blond still seems at ease on the bed, calm, and merely cocks his head upon Inaho stepping out into the hall. Hopefully he will behave himself; Inaho is hoping the shirt and buttons will keep him occupied and entertained until lunchtime, and he should not get dehydrated given there is still a good amount of water in the glass.

Inaho shuts the door in front of himself and stands motionless for a moment before locking it again, resting his forehead against the door.

There is silence in the room, the sound of only waves splashing along the ship's.. –

_Ah, no._

The sounds of glass sliding along wood sounds after a few seconds, a quiet, dull sound similar to the door locking, and Inaho breathes a sigh of relief.

He had been worried the blond would not realise he still had the water, there. _Good,_ he thinks to himself, slowly stepping away from the door, _He'll be fine._

 

 

There is a list of things Kaizuka Inaho is no longer allowed to do, and that list has been made public to the other crew members just in case they enlist him to help with a chore or if he decides to disregard the captain's explicit orders and do one of those things _anyway_ , as he is prone to do.

One of those things includes taking the _Wadatsumi's_ inventory; he is free to do so on other ships and is actually often asked to do so instead of his fellow mates because he is so thorough. However, it is because he is so thorough that he has been banned from doing this specific task on the _Wadatsumi_.

During his first year of training, he had somehow managed to completely rearrange the many stock rooms on the ship, leading to many items being lost or found in unusual places, discarded items left in a separate room that had been meant for holding guests or prisoners, and somehow had ended in a surplus of barrels and buckets..

Yuki had said that Inaho found their system inefficient and had decided to change it himself.

Though Inaho is banned from ever again taking inventory on the _Wadatsumi_ , his new system had ended up being implemented anyway, and he is allowed to monitor it, but no longer directly interfere. Magbaredge insisted that perhaps too much mental stimulation was not good for the young officer, and has since assigned him more manual tasks.

“Mm? Oh, you're here?”

Raising his head somewhat at the familiar voice, Inaho finds himself gazing at Calm, who is using a worn, wooden stick for support, leaning against it; he recognises the stick as something Calm uses sometimes to help with repairs. His gaze instinctively slips back downward to the deck, and he relaxes upon seeing that it is still completely dry; Calm has not yet started their chores. _That would have been a problem,_ he thinks to himself, _If I had slipped and fallen, taking care of our guest would have become an issue._ “Are we cleaning, today?” he asks quietly as he walks over to the taller blond, taking care to stay at an arm's length lest Calm decides to 'hug' him again.

“Yup. Washing the deck and the cantina, and then we're gonna help Nina out with something in the navigation room,” Calm answers, shrugging, “Nothing hard, not like that time the cap'n asked us to scrape the barnacles off of the bottom of the ship.”

_Ah._

Inaho recalls that time; the water had been cold, and he remembers they had been further north for a few months, somewhere near Russia.. the ice had had water in it, and they had only been allowed to be out in the water for about an hour before they had to switch with Matsuribi and Kakei and warm up during their break. The four of them almost ended up with frostbite, still, and had to be kept under watch for the day afterward, just in case they developed any horrible symptoms. Luckily, Matsuribi ended up with a minor cold, Kakei seemed fine, Calm developed very minor hypothermia, and Inaho.. thanks to his practically nonexistent resilience to the cold, he had ended up with something similar to the flu, but he had been fine after a few days of hot meals and rest.

That had been grueling. Interesting, and certainly some kind of experience to add to their growing list of 'have dones', but grueling. If preferable, Inaho would not like to partake in that particular 'exercise' again.

“Then I suppose we should get started?” Inaho asks, and Calm gestures vaguely to the side, where a few buckets and a half dozen washcloths sit on the floor, surrounded by barrels to prevent anything from going overboard.

“Sure. And while we work, you can tell me all about our guest!”

 

 

“Wait, what do you mean, 'he can't walk'?”

Inaho blinks; he thought he had been more than clear with his explanation. “He’s not physically able to walk. It's impossible for him,” he says, wondering if perhaps Calm simply misunderstood him the first time. He raises the washcloth, water dripping quietly onto the floorboards; his knees and legs are soaked with water, and the chill is still in the air, rendering him cold, but there is not much he can do besides attempt to ignore it. They have finished three quarters of the deck and are on the last end of it. The faint smell of lemon lingers in the air; apparently, the juice has some chemicals in it that aid in cleaning, and they use it rather often when it is available.

Calm gazes at the officer, trying to work out what Inaho had just said in his head; his blue eyes narrow somewhat in what appears to be a cross between deep thought and anger. “Was it..” he starts to say, halted by his own hesitance, “Did it – The pirates, did they..” He shakes his head, unsure of how to word this inquiry without seeming too irrational. “Did the pirates.. have something to do with..?” he finally manages, earning a small shake of the head.

“No. He was unable to walk even before his time with them – that much is clear,” Inaho says, tone firm, soft still. “They didn't harm him.”

Relief flickers in Calm's eyes, and he visibly relaxes. “That's.. good,” he says slowly, nodding somewhat. He pauses, thinking again, and then allows himself to smile, repeating, “That's good. Their charges are going to be a little less, then.”

 _If we’re even_ **able** _to charge them,_ Inaho thinks to himself, staying quiet. He wants to, but considering the circumstances.. it might not be possible. He presses the washcloth against the wood again, the tips of his fingers a light shade of red as they gradually grow number and number with the cold water and the chilling air. _We must have gone farther north,_ he realises; despite it being only early afternoon, the temperature has steadily dropped as the days have gone by. Speaking with Calm, at least, is a nice, welcome distraction that helps take his mind off of the cool air.

“Has.. the cap'n said what we're to do with him?” Calm asks, curious now, “We can't just drop him off at the nearest town.. right? I mean, we could, but..”

 _We could, and we do that with people whom are wanted, but.. that wouldn't be very kind to him,_ Inaho finishes, shaking his head. “We're to look for any family members upon arrival,” he answers – _not that we'll find any_ – and pauses for a moment, “She said.. she would think about it more once we get there.”

“.. where _are_ we going, anyway?”

Inaho raises his head, gazing out at the sea; barely visible, in the distance, is some sort of landmass, but they have not been north often enough for him to recognise it as any sort of country. “We can ask Nina when we're finished,” he suggests, earning a small smile.

“Right. We're.. somewhere near Korea or Russia.. right?”

“I believe so,” Inaho answers, leaning out to wipe the planks further away from him. It still smells like lemon, lemon mixed in with the scent of the salted, chilled ocean, and he wonders if perhaps it smells differently under the water. “.. Calm,” he calls after a second.

“Yeah?” Calm asks, raising his head. The brunet looks distant again, sort of far away, his usual look when he gets thoughtful.

Staying quiet for a few moments, Inaho continues to gaze out to sea before looking away to meet the blond's light eyes, “Do you think..” He trails off, and then ends up shaking his head, managing a small, knowing smile. “Never mind. Let's hurry and help Nina.”

_And hurry and get out of the cold air._

 

 

“You guys are gonna clean up in here?”

Inaho lifts his head somewhat and finds himself gazing at Tsumugi and Matsuribi – the _Wadatsumi's_ riggers. They are donned in their slightly heavier duty clothing, both of them wearing thick, cloth gloves and boots. “Are you going outside to fix something?” he asks, unintentionally forgoing a greeting as well as the answer to their question; a bad habit of his.

Still, the duo manage a small smile, having gotten used to their new recruit rather quickly in the three years he has been here; they only joined a year before he did, and they all lived in the same area together.

“The cap'n asked us to repair the lookout. 'cause it's been damaged for a few weeks now..” Matsuribi answers, smile turning sheepish. He adjusts the small crate in his arms, hugging it closer to his chest; things clatter quietly inside, sounding metallic, loud.

 _Those must be their tools,_ Inaho figures, nodding as he gazes at the duo. Usually, Calm would be working with them, but since they have an odd number of able bodied officers.. Calm is paired with Inaho until the brunet is done with his share of duties. “Are you going to fix it so that the wind doesn't blow through?” he questions, though before either of the riggers can answer, Calm playfully rests an arm on Inaho's shoulder.

“Inaho, you know they can't put a roof on it for you. We need t’ be able to see,” the blond points out.

Inaho falls silent.

Calm grins, gently, squeezing Inaho's other shoulder, humming softly. “Anyway,” he says, about to shift the subject, “Quick question before they go. The kid, if he could stand.. how tall do you think he would be?”

Inaho tries to remain passive; the boatswain is just poking fun at his small height, again, and is taking full advantage of his smaller stature, the way his arm is draped around his neck. “I.. suppose he would be around Matsuribi's height,” he says after a moment, giving it little thought. The blond seems as long as Matsuribi, if he had to estimate, and Calm and Tsumugi seem taller than him.

Calm nods at that, seemingly trying to picture it in his head, “So, then.. you're the shortest?”

The brunet turns his head to frown up at the other. “I'm not the shortest,” he murmurs, “Nina is.”

Shrugging at that, Calm tosses the issue aside; Inaho's height is something he can always bring up at a later time, and he knows it is not good to annoy one of the few people on board who can actually cook.

“Are you.. talking about the hostage?” Tsumugi asks curiously, seeming concerned, “We haven't heard anything from the captain, yet. What's his name?”

“We.. don't know,” Inaho says truthfully, “He speaks a foreign language.”

Surprised silence fills the air, and even Matsuribi seems taken aback, given his usually playful demeanour; he is more carefree than Calm is. The riggers share a glance at each other, frowning.

“Is.. is he alright?” Tsumugi asks, pushing his glasses back up, “You brought him to Yagarai, correct?”

Inaho nods, gazing up at the two. “He's fine,” he answers automatically, tone soft. He supposes the rest of the crew will ask similar questions, and he finds himself not minding so much; answering with the same or similar answers is less stressful than having to come up with something that is not quite a lie but not quite the truth, either.

“That's.. good,” Matsuribi says, smiling again; he seems relieved, rightfully so. He and Tsumugi are not required on deck in the case of pirates, so if something had happened, that would have been worrying. “Well, we'll see ya later, right?” he hums, and the tools clatter again as he readjusts them, taking a few steps to the side, “We hafta fix the lookout before any bad weather comes our way. Don't forget to come help us out in the kitchen later, Calm.”

Calm nods a few times, pulling away from Inaho to allow the two to pass. “Yeah, I'll see you later, prob’ly after lunch,” he says, gazing after the two as they pass by.

Inaho watches them as well, their boots heavier, thumping against the floorboards, and they slowly fade away as they head down the hall, up the stairs.. he wonders if their guest had heard the same sound when the pirates were running about, wonders if perhaps it frightened him.

He must have some sort of thoughtful look on his face because Calm nudges him after a moment, asking, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Inaho says, shaking his head, “We should move the chairs and tables out of the way. Since you're tall, you'll hit your head if we're under it.”

 

 

“What are they supposed to help you with?”

Lifting her head, Nina finds herself gazing at her best friend, who is currently sitting in a chair against the wall, in the corner of the room. “Inaho is supposed to help me with a few charts and Calm needs to repair the astrolabe. It broke, again,” the blonde answers, gesturing to the small, fragmented pieces of copper scattered on the table, “We should get a new one..”

She continues to sort through the pieces of parchment in her hands, all of them covered in drawings and charts and star patterns.. She has a large map decorating the table under her, the map large enough to almost work as a table cloth of sorts. The ends of it are frayed, yellowed with age, but the map remains legible.

“.. 'again'? It's broken before?” Inko questions, raising an eyebrow as she shifts her gaze toward the broken astrolabe.

All of the pieces seem to be intact, though a few gears and decorative pieces are bent and twisted, unable to fit properly the way they are now. She has never touched the copper thing, having no idea how to use it, and has so far only seen Nina and the captain using it, Inaho _attempting_ to use it, and everyone else mostly just look at it, not wanting to break the thin, delicate looking tool. It has many, many pieces and the circular frame and dial are intricate looking enough, compared to the more simpler ones that are available at shops.

“Yeah, we.. need to get a new one,” Nina says, smiling sheepishly, “It's kind of old.. Captain Magbaredge says that two navigators used it before I did..” And that was back when the _Wadatsumi_ had a different captain.

“I thought copper was durable?”

“It is, but.. “ Nina pauses, setting the parchment down on top of the map to pick up assorted pieces of the broken astrolabe, gazing at them with a slight frown on her face. “It's.. been dropped a few times, and the last time it was dropped, it fell from the lookout station..”

 _Oh,_ Inko recalls, nodding, _Calm had dropped it, that time. That was during the last storm._

That was also when Inaho had fallen off of the ship for the second time, about five months ago.

“.. wait,” she calls, shaking her head, “If.. that's been broken for five months, what have you been using to navigate?”

Nina smiles, gesturing to something that resembles a globe, except it is hollow, with only a circular frame and some kind of telescope-like cylinder inside. It sits upon a stand of some kind, with a large spherical copper ball beside it. “I've been using that one. It's bigger and heavier, so I can't move it onto deck.. but I can use it to peer out the windows here and it works just as fine. The smaller one is more convenient,” she explains, gaze lingering on the larger version, “Calm finally found the parts to fix it, so he's going to fix it for me today. Then I can be back on deck instead of cooped up in this room..” She breathes a sigh of relief, seeming happy with the fact, and her smile turns into a warm grin, “Then you won't have to keep me company in this tiny room and we can actually walk around!”

Inko returns the grin with a warm one of her own, nodding. “That'd be nice. We could actually enjoy the nice weather on deck.”

“The weather isn't nice outside.”

Shifting their gazes toward the door, the two girls find Inaho and Calm standing in the doorway, Inaho looking plainly disinterested as he usually does.

“I take it you were out on deck today, Inaho?” Inko teases.

Inaho gives her a knowing, slightly frustrated look. Once they are finished, he will return to his room and grab a coat.. and perhaps some more water for their guest.

“We had to clean the deck,” Calm says simply, shrugging, “You know he hates that.”

Inko only hums at that, smirking lightly as she gazes at him. Nina interjects, holding up the broken pieces of the astrolabe, “Do you have everything, Calm?”

“Mm, yeah, think so,” Calm answers, digging through his pockets.

Inaho's gaze flickers downward upon hearing the quiet sound of scraping metal, though he raises his head again to meet the blonde's gaze, staying quiet for a moment. “What do you need, Nina?”

“While Calm fixes the astrolabe, you and I are going to finish sorting through the star charts,” she answers, “And then we have to mark them accordingly. It should only take an hour.”

 _An hour,_ Inaho notes. It has already been two and a half hours since he has left their guest alone, but seeing as no one has said anything yet.. he assumes the blond is still safely locked up in his room. “Alright,” he agrees, stepping toward her.

“Do you remember how to do it?”

“Yes,” Inaho says with a nod, “I remember.” He has to mark star constellations, names, directions, dates.. All things that will help Nina better grasp their current location depending on the time of year. Today, they have to go through last month’s and this month’s charts, October and November. “This is my share?” he asks, very gently pulling a small pile of parchment toward him; this paper is also yellowed and frayed, delicate.

“Yes, but first..” Nina starts to remove things from the table, along with their papers and the astrolabe's parts, “We have to remove the map. It already has ink splotches..”

Inaho's gaze flickers downward toward the map, which does indeed have small beads of black ink here and there, though none of them are big enough to black out important parts of the map. He helps her remove the map, folding it back up as delicately as they can; the parchment is soft, almost like fabric against his fingers, softened with age.. “In the next town, we should get a new one,” he murmurs, causing her to nod in agreement.

“Speaking of town,” Calm pipes up, having nearly forgotten, “Where are we going?”

“Russia. We're going to a small port town in Russia, and I'd say were a day and a half or so away, now.”

“Which town?” Inko asks, looking up from her book; it had been in her lap, before, but now that Nina is going to be occupied with Inaho and Calm, she has a chance to read it.

“Magadan.”

“.. how cold is it going to be?” Inaho asks quietly, handing Nina the folded up map when she holds her arms out for it.

The blonde thinks for a moment, green eyes narrowing as she tries to recall average temperature – Mizusaki has given her a chart that she uses detailing temperature, so that she knows if an area is going to be navigable or not, whether or not ice will be present. “I.. think Magadan has an average temperature of negative seven around this time of year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: in canon, Inko is only a centimetre taller than Inaho, and Inaho is six centimetres taller than Nina and I love height differences like that.


	15. Chapter 15

“Nao, please blow on the soup before you eat it,” Yuki says, worry in her tone.

“I'm fine,” Inaho says, the bowl at his lips. The soup inside is piping hot, steam visibly coming off of it, much like mist or fog, and it keeps his face and lips warm inside the somewhat chilly confines of their ship. His hands are kept warm as he grips the bowl, heat radiating off of the porcelain; he has no intention of letting the soup cool down and intends to finish it before it cools off, even slightly. Soup is best when eaten hot.

“Inaho, you're going to burn your tongue,” Inko points out, frowning as she gazes at the other. She is eating her own soup with a spoon, softly blowing on it before sipping from the spoon, chewing slowly on the small chunks of fish that litter the broth.

Inaho shakes his head, raising his gaze just enough to meet hers. “I'm fine,” he repeats, continuing to drink directly from the bowl – and he is, he rarely burns himself when eating or drinking hot foodstuffs, and has actually grown rather accustomed to the feeling.

The blond's meal is already set aside, and this time he is going to see if their guest will eat anything other than fish. He has decided on trying to feed him some biscuits, along with two more fish, unsure if it is a good idea to try the broth. The blond might not even know how to use utensils, and.. the broth is rather hot, much hotter in comparison to the blond’s temperature. Given their guest had forfeited a blanket and does not seem cold in the least, Inaho is concerned that the other may actually overheat.. if he is from deep, deep below the ocean as it might seem, then the temperatures down there may be nothing compared to up on the surface..

_He should feel right at home in Magadan._

“Anyway,” Calm says, redirecting the attention unto himself, “I've gotta go help Matsuribi and Tsumugi. We've got one last chore before we're finished.”

“What are you doing?” Nina asks, watching as he swings his leg over the bench.

“The cap'n said something about repairing the cells on the lowest floor.. I think some of the doors and hinges need to be replaced,” the blond answers, shrugging somewhat; he cannot recall exactly, but Tsumugi is sure to remember and remind him. “And Inaho, you aren't allowed down there.”

Inaho raises his head, frowning somewhat. “I know,” he murmurs, “I wasn't going to go down.”

After an incident that had occurred in his first year, he is no longer allowed to interact with their prisoners – in his case, the pirate leader – and is prohibited from going down to the lowest level unless it is empty. After that particular incident, the prisoner had been in the infirmary for a few days with a minor concussion and several bruises.

 _To be fair, that had been his fault,_ Inaho thinks to himself, gaze lingering on the other for a moment. He lowers the bowl, setting it gently on the table, and starts to ask in a quiet tone, “Since I'm not allowed down, could you..”

“Nope,” Calm hums, shaking his head, “See ya later, okay? Spend the rest of the day with our guest.”

 

 

Inaho had borrowed a large serving tray so that he could better balance the blond's meal in his hands without dropping anything. He pulls at the key at his wrist slowly, trying to pull it up to his palm, and manages to unlock the door before the tray starts to waver. “ **Hello**..” he calls quietly, and earns an immediate response.

“ _Halló, Lítill.”_

Inaho carefully opens the door with his foot, stepping inside once he manages to open a big enough gap for him to pass through, “I've brought.. you.. some..” His voice slowly trails off as he gazes at his guest, gaze slipping downward to find a small pile of feathers on the floorboards, neatly arranged, and the broken pillowcase folded neatly beside it. “You.. cleaned up,” he says, taken by surprise – a _nd he's still dressed properly._

 _Had.. he felt bad?_ he wonders, shutting the door behind him as best he can. He manages to close it just enough to prevent anyone from peeking inside unless they open it more and walks over to the bed, setting the tray down on his now empty nightstand. “Thank you for cleaning up,” he says quietly, crossing back over to the door, shutting and locking it completely; until he is sure that there are no repercussions to their guest being not human, he is not taking any chances with anyone potentially finding out.

“ _Fiskur? Fyrir mig?”_

Inaho turns his head to meet the blond's gaze.

The other gestures to the plate, cocking his head. “ _Fyrir mig?”_ he repeats, tone still low, _patient_ almost; it seems he will not touch it unless Inaho shows that he is allowed to.

“That's.. for you,” the brunet says after a moment, gesturing for the blond to go ahead and take it; he does, slowly pulling the plate toward him, fingers managing to grasp the edge. He walks back toward the bed, and is about to sit down when the blond gently pushes him, shaking his head.

“ _Líta á.”_

Inaho blinks upon the blond holding up a shell in his free hand, and then putting it back on the bed, presumably waiting for something. He turns around and looks down at the mattress, taken by surprise once more when he finds that the reason his nightstand is empty is because the blond has arranged all the coins, seashells and the candlestick on the sheets, arranged as neatly as the feathers, albeit separated and set aside so that each item is with its same kind. “You.. must've been bored..” he murmurs – _or perhaps he was just curious_ – and rests his weight carefully at the blond's other side, still unsure of where the blond had hidden the other glass. He sits down slowly, feeling nothing but blanket, and goes quiet upon the blond starting to pick apart the fish.

Starting to hum quietly, the blond sets aside the bones again, pushing them to the edge of his plate as he once again separates the meat from the bones. He remains quiet, humming still soft as it had been before, still _beautiful._

The effect it has on Inaho is almost immediate.

Blinking back a sudden wave of overwhelming drowsiness, the officer presses a hand to his eye, gently rubbing it in an attempt to wake himself back up. “Don't..” he mumbles, pausing for a moment. _He really is dangerous,_ he thinks to himself, shaking his head. “.. don't do that, please,” he murmurs, earning the blond's attention.

The humming stops, and the drowsiness disappears immediately.

The blond gazes at the other for a moment before cocking his head, “ _Já..?”_

Inaho is slightly taken aback by the response and stares right back at him. _He.. isn't aware of what effect that has,_ he realises, _He isn't doing it intentionally._ He is not quite sure what to say, how to respond to confusion when he himself is slightly confused.

“ _.. Lítill?”_

* * *

 

Slaine blinks in surprise as he gazes at the brunet, unsure of what the other had said. That comment had been especially soft, almost _slurred_ , as if he were drowsy, but.. Looking at him now, he seems fine, if just confused. “.. Lítill?” he calls quietly, meeting his eyes, “What's.. wrong? Are you tired?”

Lítill blinks again, shaking his head, “ _I..”_

Slaine waits patiently for the brunet to gather his wits, wondering for a moment if maybe the brunet is tired after doing whatever it is he had left to do.

Lítill had been gone a long time – it feels like he had been gone a _very_ long time – so perhaps he overexerted himself?

“Do you need to rest?” he asks quietly, readjusting the plate on his lap, returning the shiny discs and the seashells to the top of the crate, beside his second glass of water, and sets the white, not-glowing thing back on the metal disc where it had been before – he is not sure why this one had not been glowing like the orange one, but at least he could touch it without hurting himself, this time.

Lítill remains quiet beside him, motionless, and he blinks in what seems to be surprise when Slaine turns back to look at him.

“Here you go,” Slaine says, gently patting the bed, smoothing it, “Go to sleep, Lítill.”

“ _Wh.. what?”_ Lítill asks, seeming hesitant.

Slaine gazes at him for a moment, noting the slight confusion still present in the brunet's eyes. “Sleep,” he repeats, pulling at the soft material covering the bed, gently wrapping it around Lítill, careful not to lean too forward and drop the plate still resting on his lap. “Have a nice nap, Lítill,” he says quietly, lowering his tone as he gently pushes Lítill down, forcing him to lie down, “Good night.”

Lítill gazes at him for a moment, still confused, still surprised, but says nothing.

 _He'll fall asleep on his own,_ Slaine figures, offering the brunet a smile before he starts to pick apart the fish again, humming quietly in an attempt to fill the silence. He had been anxious, all by himself in the quiet, near-silent room, and the sounds of other people's voices out in the hall had been unnerving to listen to as they passed by..

But now that Lítill is here, he feels better – he is no longer alone.

Lítill's breathing eventually slows, grows gradually softer and softer until it is a mere accompaniment to his humming, barely audible.

Glancing at him, Slaine smiles somewhat upon seeing that the other is sound asleep, wrapped up again in the soft material. There is a peaceful expression on his features, and it seems he will be asleep for quite awhile. Some rest, after doing whatever it is he had been doing when he was gone, is well earned. _And I don’t mind if he’s sleeping, as long as he’s here.._ he figures, nodding to himself, _Maybe he’ll feel better when he wakes up. He can’t get sick since he’s taking care of me, after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, what Slaine says;  
> "Hello."  
> "Fish? For me?"  
> "For me?"  
> "Look."  
> "Yes..?"


	16. Chapter 16

Once he has finished his two fish, Slaine is unsure of what to do with the three roundish things on his second plate. They are soft to the touch – he had poked one of them too hard, and now there is a hole in it, revealing some sort of white fluff under a deceptive, brownish top. The sides are a golden yellow sort of shade, and they are still soft. Tearing one in half revealed that the insides are entirely white fluff, and they do not look like anything he has ever seen or eaten before.

He has absolutely no idea what they are.

They _must_ be a food of some kind, given Lítill had brought them to him, but..

Poking at one of the broken halves of the round things, he picks it up after a moment, bringing it to his lips. It is still sort of warm on the inside, and they do not have any particular taste or smell. They flake, kind of like fish scales, and parts of the thing stick to his lips. “This.. is edible, right..?” he wonders aloud, glancing at Lítill, who is still sound asleep. _I don’t think he would give me anything I couldn’t eat.._ he figures, recalling how the brunet had made sure to properly clean his fingers so he could not lick them after touching that black rock. With that in mind, he takes a small bite out of it.

It..

...

...

.. does not really taste like anything, at all.

Slaine finds himself taken aback by the lack of taste, but it is not particularly unpleasant. Food is food after all, even if the fish had some sort of taste to it. Perhaps some things simply do not taste of anything, up here. Continuing to eat the tasteless round thing, slowly, he takes his time to carefully chew, not wanting to take any chances with unknown foodstuff. Should he choke, Lítill might not wake up in time to help him.

He cannot help but glance over at the other, teal eyes lingering over Lítill’s slumbering face.

Each time they interact, Lítill is a little less empty.

It is almost as if they are opening up more, the more time they spend together, the more comfortable they become with one another.

Leaning forward, he presses his fingers to Lítill’s neck.

 _He's still warm,_ Slaine realises, pulling away. Lítill is still too warm to touch right now, still uncomfortable against Slaine's cool skin. _Still something to get used to, I suppose,_ he figures, shaking his head, _He must have been really tired.. I wonder what he was doing.._

* * *

 

_**Keep swimming.** _

_'I am,' Inaho wants to say, but his mouth is full of salt water, disgusting and cold in his mouth, burning in his throat._

_**Keep swimming.** _

_'I want to,' Inaho wants to insist – he does, he does not want to drown, not want to lose like this, to_ **water** _._

_**Keep swimming.** _

_The thought is on replay in Inaho's head, playing over and over and over and over like a mantra, on endless repeat, like one of those men who shout verses from the top of the stairs at temples, churches, cathedrals, over and over and over.._

_**Keep swimming, or you will die.** _

_The voice states a simple, hard fact in that monotone of theirs, soft, blank, empty._

_He wonders, just for a moment, if that is what he sounds like when he speaks, but the thought is quickly washed away with another mouthful of ocean water, unforgiving against the cuts on his lips, harsh on his throat. If he had the strength, he probably would have thrown up acid by now, but he is just_ **so utterly exhausted.**

_And then, he breaks the water's surface._

 

 

Waking up with a start, Inaho finds himself gasping for air as if he had been starved of it, chest heaving, breath heavy, head spinning, aching, thoughts jumbled and incoherent. He brings a hand to his lips, coughing into it quietly, roughly, and feels something against his palm, cold against his skin and burning against his lips. Pulling his hand away somewhat, he allows his vision to adjust to the dim light and the excitement, takes a deep breath, and freezes moments later upon seeing that he had coughed up water.

 _Salt_ water, according to his taste buds and the familiar stinging in his throat.

_That was a dream._

It takes him a moment to process the thought, the realisation hitting him.

 _It was a dream,_ he reminds himself, trying to shake the feeling of dread. He exhales shakily, wiping the water against his trousers, trying to calm his racing heart. It would do him no good to think about it anymore. A dream is a dream, even if..

 _Even if.._ His gaze slips to the blond just half an arm's length away, sound asleep in front of him, breathing so quiet, so low, so _innocent. He truly has no idea what he can do, does he?_ he realises, the thought worrying.

The blond had tucked him in – _attempted to, at least, it doesn't seem he knows what a blanket is_ – and had tried to put him to sleep, or get him to rest, is what it had seemed like.

 _He must have thought I was tired,_ Inaho figures, shaking his head.

Their guest, odd and naïve as he may be, truly does not seem to mean any harm. The humming seems to be something he does to keep himself entertained, as they have no real means to communicate with each other, and he does not seem to have any ulterior motive in mind.

He.. does not seem to have any ill intent, but..

“You're.. still dangerous.”

 

 

There is a dull ache in his head and his throat still stings and his tongue tastes vaguely of salt, but the effects of whatever the blond had done have seemed to almost disappeared, now. He had managed to look around his room and find the missing glass – it had been on the other side of the bed, on the floor, where the blond was originally sleeping. Inaho.. is not quite sure how that occurred and knows he cannot ask, and had only left it on his larger drawer along with the second glass, that had been empty, as well as the two plates and tray.

It seems that the blond had eaten the biscuits, given the fact they are absent from the smaller plate and did not seem to be hidden anywhere, which had been both a surprise and a relief.

It means the blond is willing to eat other things, or at least try them. That little fact will help in keeping him as 'human' as possible, when he eventually has to meet the rest of the crew..

Now, he is gazing out to sea again, the sky a dark, dark shade of navy with the moonbeams peeking through the cloud cover, and the pirate ship following after them is dim, lights off in what few visible windows there are.

 _It must be late,_ Inaho realises. He had encountered no one in the halls, and the ship is rather quiet, the lull of the waves keeping it from being completely silent. “I missed dinner,” he murmurs to himself, though he feels no hunger pangs or the least bit peckish.

That dream had left him.. dazed.

If the blond can do that, then.. what else can he.. –

“Inaho?”

Turning slightly, Inaho finds himself gazing at a surprised Nina and Calm, who have a few bundles of blankets and a couple of pillows in their arms. “What.. are you doing?”

“We're going to Inko's room,” Nina says simply, cocking her head; despite them being adults now, the four of them still regularly enjoy sleeping in each other's rooms in messy piles upon the floor. It feels.. familiar. Safe.

If the blond were not in his room, Inaho might join them.

“I see,” he says, gazing at them for a few moments more. Nina has a book tucked under her arm, the binding written in what seems to be English. “Are you.. going to read stories?” he asks quietly, earning a small nod and a faint smile.

“Yeah, Nina has this book of fairy tales with her. We'd lend it to you, and maybe get the blond to read it, but.. it's in English..” Calm says, trailing off slowly.

Inaho stays quiet for a second, and then takes a few steps forward, gesturing to the door that leads downstairs and to their cabins, “Could I..” He trails off just as Calm had, and his gaze lingers on the door.

Calm shifts the blankets in his arms, throwing them over his shoulder to better carry them, and waits patiently for the brunet to continue, glancing over at Nina.

“Could I join you?”

_A.. story sounds good, right about now._

* * *

 

“ _Mmn..”_

Inaho turns his head when he hears the blond sigh quietly, and finds his guest slowly stirring awake, a small frown on his features as he blinks his eyes, presumably trying to adjust them or focus his vision. “Good morning,” he calls softly, just to let the other know that he is still in the room. He adjusts himself somewhat in his chair, turning to face the other, gently gripping a piece of parchment in his hands.

Startled, just for a second, the blond shakes his head as he manages to sit up, seemingly reminding himself of his current whereabouts. “ _Góðan daginn..”_ he murmurs, and that frown still rests on his features, a frown laced with slight confusion and worry, and his fingertips are turning a warm, light shade of red as he grips the sheets on the bed.

Remaining quiet for a moment, Inaho watches as the blond situates himself; his guest looks around the room slowly, teal eyes drowsy, and his gaze flickers upward at the small lantern that sways on its rope, casting a dim, warm light. The room is bathed in an orangish hue, and the blond stares at the lantern for a few moments before his gaze slips back down to the bed sheets.

It seems it will take a few more days until he is fully used to and aware that he is no longer in his home, and is amongst strangers in a foreign land, something that has yet to completely terrify him.

“Are you alright?” Inaho asks, standing up and putting the parchment down on his nightstand, crouching down in front of the blond. The paper is covered in small, charcoal drawings and words, something Nina had given to him to help illustrate the stories they had been reading and talking about last night.

“ _Mm..?”_ The blond blinks another few times, blue-green meeting Inaho's eyes. “ _Lítill..”_ he murmurs, voice still soft, slurred. He cocks his head, and his grip on the bed sheets relax, just enough to allow the blood to circulate back to his fingertips, not straining them any longer.

 _He's too tired to talk,_ Inaho notes, staring at him for a moment, _I should get him breakfast. That might help.._ Getting up slowly, he very gently rests his fingers on the blond's neck, feeling his faint, quiet pulse. “He seems fine, otherwise..” he murmurs to himself, pulling away and getting ready to leave –

“ _Bíddu..”_ The call is soft, followed by a tug on his sleeve.

Inaho turns his head to find the blond looking at him again, gripping the end of his sleeve near his palms, bunching the fabric up. “Yes?” he asks, assuming the blond needs or wants something before he leaves.

The blond pulls away and pauses for a moment before holding his arms out, “ _Ekki.. láta mig í friði..”_

Inaho finds himself taken by surprise by the action, rendered silent for a few moments, trying to sort out how to properly react in a way that does not put the blond off.

“ _Lítill..?”_

Gaze slipping downward, Inaho gazes at the other, meeting his eyes. “You.. want me to take you with me,” he says to himself.

_Why?_

The thought lingers in his head as he gazes at the other, hesitant.

_Does he not want to be alone? Was he lonely? Does he dislike being locked up in this room?_

There could be many, many different reasons, but Inaho knows he will not be able to quite figure it out with their communication limited.

“Okay,” Inaho finds himself saying, nodding somewhat, “I'll.. take you with me, today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, what Slaine says;  
> "Good morning."  
> "Wait."  
> "Don't leave me behind."
> 
> ahh, this took so long, and I'm sorry, and it's only really just kind of a filler.. I apologise! I've only had two days off from my new job, but I'll have more time off this week, so I'll be able to work! please bear with me while I slowly, but steadily work on this! I already have an idea of what I want to accomplish, I just need a bit more time to actually finish. ;;


	17. Chapter 17

Inaho is quiet as he sits on the floor beside the cot, noting how anxious the blond seems to be. He can feel the other’s fingers in his hair, pulling at it – gently, so oddly gently, the other has not hurt him once or tugged on it, despite having been surprised several times now. The repetitive action seems to be keeping him distracted, and it is far better than the dangerous humming, considering the two of them are not alone now. The touches are bare, soft, and Inaho can just barely feel the blond’s cool fingertips against his scalp, never lingering long enough to chill his skin.

The both of them have been exceptionally quiet upon entering the infirmary. The blond seems even more unwilling to speak with Yagarai in the room, demeanour having completely shifted back to his quiet, shy persona from before.

 _He seems_ **very** _anxious,_ Inaho amends thoughtfully, trying to stay as still as he can, despite being uncomfortable on the floor. The cot is not big enough for the two of them, like his bed is, and the other takes up the majority of the space.

Inaho does not want to purposefully make their guest uncomfortable.

They are only here to see if Doctor Yagarai has a wheelchair in his storage room that they could use. While not against taking the blond around with him, he is unsure if he could carry him _everywhere_ ; he would eventually exhaust himself. The other is not exactly the lightest person, and that tail of his is certainly heavier than a normal pair of legs are..

Right now, Yagarai is in the storage room by himself, sifting through it, looking through his carefully assorted belongings and supplies.

Whenever the doctor unintentionally makes too loud of a sound, Inaho feels the blond's grip tighten on his hair, a reflexive, frightened action. It is just forceful enough to be noticed, but not enough to hurt.

So Inaho simply stays immobile on the floor, quiet, and allows the blond to do as he pleases. _Perhaps.. when he meets the others, he might be more relaxed, since they're around our age.._ he figures, hoping that is indeed the case, that the blond's aversion to people only concerns 'adults'.

“Kaizuka junior?”

The blond tenses up again, and his fingers rest against Inaho's head.

Inaho slowly lifts his head, meeting the blond's nervous teal eyes, and slowly, _slowly_ starts to get back up, being careful not to startle the blond, not to frighten him or make him more anxious. “I'll.. be right back, okay?” he asks softly, keeping his tone even, quiet, “Okay?”

The blond gazes up at him, seeming hesitant, reluctant, and when Inaho starts to walk away, he feels another tug on his sleeve, gentle still, still hesitant.

“.. yes?” Inaho asks, turning his head back to look at the other.

“ _B.. bíddu.. Lítill..”_ the blond murmurs, lightly biting his lip, “ _Lítill..”_

Staring at him for a moment, Inaho starts to feel bad once again.

Leaving him alone for extended periods might not have been the best course of action, but he cannot simply abandon his duties. The captain would _really_ have a serious talk with him, then. _You.. really don’t like to be left alone.._ he realises, turning back around to face the other. Crouching down to meet his eyes, he wonders what he can do to keep him calm and quiet for at least a few minutes.

His gaze flickers to the pillow, undisturbed and untouched from their previous visit. _He liked hugging that. Perhaps that will keep him sated,_ he thinks, pulling away from the other to grab and fluff it up for him. “Here,” he says, keeping his tone low, “I’ll be right back, and then we can have food.”

Straightening up, he pauses, thinking.

“ _Fiskur_?” he tries, handing the blond the pillow, “You.. want food, don’t you? _Fiskur_?”

It takes a moment, but the blond lights up. “ _Fiskur?”_ he repeats after Inaho, “ _Matur? Fiskur?”_

Inaho nods slightly, tensing up when the other smiles at him, looking at ease, now.

“ _Fyrir mig?”_ the blond continues, squeezing the fragile thing as he hugs it to his chest, “ _Fiskur? Fyrir mig?”_

Inaho nods again.

Relaxing, the blond allows Inaho to pull completely away, now, and remains smiling up at him. He nods a few times in return. “ _Takk fyrir, Lítill,”_ he says, the promise of food seeming enough to sate his unease, as well as the pillow to keep him distracted.

Once Inaho gives him a final nod, he goes quiet, and says nothing as the brunet walks away from him. Entering the storage room slowly, he peeks his head into the dark space, the only light coming from the flickering candle and its holder in Yagarai’s hands. “Did you find it?” he questions, careful with his steps as he walks toward the other. There are far too many small trinkets and medical supplies in here; they could easily be stepped upon if they were thrown off the shelves due to the waves.

“I believe so. If this is it, then it's made of wood, and I'm afraid the candle may scorch it as I pull it out.. Could you please take it, while I..” Trailing off as he holds the candle out for the young officer, Yagarai watches was Inaho takes the light without complaint. He then proceeds to move some more objects out of the way, metallic objects from the way they clink when he sets them down on what seems to be a shelf.

“I could organise this for you,” Inaho offers.

“I thought Magbaredge prohibited you from doing that?”

“She banned me from taking inventory. She never said anything about organising,” Inaho points out innocently, knowing full well what the captain _means_ , even if she has not said it expressly.

The doctor laughs at that, a low, quiet sound, and shakes his head slightly, “We both know it's unwise to try and do something you know will upset her, Kaizuka. If you really want to, however, I'll allow you to monitor whenever we get a chance to organise this area.”

Inaho only hums at that, staying quiet. If he had this way, storage and organising would be far more efficient.

Yagarai continues to move objects off of the chair, stacking them instead on what appears to be a shelf – its outline is vague in the dim, dim light, but Inaho can see the shiny, reflective metal in the light, bedpans, bowls, cups, tools..

This area will definitely have to be sorted, later.

But for now, their guest takes priority.

“Ah, here we are.”

Inaho lowers the candle, allowing the light to dance off of the vaguely familiar wooden surface, and nods. It still seems to be in good shape, still usable, which is a good sign. “Thank you,” he murmurs, stepping away, “Could you – He's still kind of..”

“Jumpy?” Yagarai offers, watching as the brunet nods again, gaze slipping. “It's fine. His mental health is just as important as his physical state. I'll remain here while you take him out.”

“.. thank you,” Inaho says quietly, grateful, “He.. seemed to want to spend the day with me today. I believe he dislikes being left alone, so.. he'll be meeting the others.”

“Perhaps meeting your friends and seeing how you interact with them will be beneficial to his current state. I'm sure if he sees you speaking normally with them, he'll understand that we're only trying to help. His anxiety seems to stem from unfamiliarity, which can be remedied with social stimulation. Please continue to take care of him, Kaizuka junior,” Yagarai says softly, causing Inaho to look up at him. He holds his hand out for the candle, which Inaho hands to him, and smiles somewhat, patient, “I'm sure he'll grow used to us before we dock.”

Inaho pulls the wheelchair out of the storage closet slowly, glad that its wheels seem to be properly oiled and lubricated, even after an uncertain period of time has passed since its last use. “.. of course,” he says after a moment, nodding somewhat, “I'll.. be taking my leave, now. Thank you again.”

“Anytime. If he develops any issues, please come by and I'll help him.”

Inaho nods as he walks backward, pulling the chair along with him; its wheels are practically soundless against the wooden floorboards, something he is sure the blond will appreciate, and slowly exits the storage closet, turning his head to find the blond gazing up at him.

His guest seems _curious_ , now, extremely interested in what this 'new contraption' might be. He is still hugging the pillow to his chest, and does not let it go or put it down when Inaho approaches him, but he does not seem frightened of it either, which comes as a relief. He remains quiet, still, saying nothing when Inaho places the wheelchair in front of him, and only raises his head when Inaho's fingertips graze his arm.

“ _Fiskur_ ,” Inaho says quietly, and the blond lights up again, eager.

“ _Fiskur?”_ the blond repeats, earning a nod.

 

 

“ _Lítill..?”_ the blond murmurs, gazing up at the brunet, seeming confused as to why they had stopped suddenly. The pillow remains in his grasp – he had seemed unwilling to part with it, given he has not let it go, though Inaho did not try at all to take it away from him – and he hugs it to his chest, still, and his blue-green eyes linger on Inaho's.

Inaho is not quite sure how to tell him that there are going to be many people in the next room, is not quite sure how the blond will respond to what may potentially be too much stimulation for what he can handle at the moment.

Surely he can hear the voices in the cantina, despite him not responding to them, right?

“ _.. Lítill, fiskur?”_ the blond asks, pointing to the door, eager now.

Inaho nods, hesitant. “You..”

“.. going to go to the deck..”

The door opens and Inaho finds himself cut off, raising his head to gaze at his sister, who gazes right back at him for just a moment before her gaze slips downward to the blond.

“Oh.. is this the boy?” Yuki asks, cocking her head somewhat.

Thankfully, she is not reacting in her usual loud manner, though she does seem _intrigued_ , with the smile that pulls at her lips.

“Yes,” Inaho says, gesturing to him, “Would you – Could you please remain quiet, around him? He has an adverse reaction to loud noises and voices.”

“Sure,” Yuki hums, crouching down to meet the blond's eyes. She rests her hands against her thighs, trying not to invade the blond's space too much, and tries to keep her distance.

The blond looks away from her, shy again, and hugs the pillow tighter. Though he is shy, he is not frightened, like he had been with Yagarai.

“Figured out his name, yet?” Yuki asks quietly, pulling away upon seeing the blond's reaction, “He still hasn't made that clear, has he?”

“He.. hasn't, no,” Inaho says, “His language seems to be difficult to grasp. Though I have learnt a few words. Today, I promised him fish, which seems to be ' _fiskur_ ' in his language, and that seemed to make him happy.”

At the word, the blond raises his head again, repeating, “ _Fiskur?”_ His gaze flickers between the two of them, gaze lingering on Inaho, as he had mentioned the food item once again.

“Awh..” Yuki coos, beaming, “His accent is _adorable_. Has he said anything else?”

“He's surprisingly talkative,” Inaho affirms, nodding, “Whether or not he speaks in other people's presence, however, I'm unsure. He seems especially shy around other people.”

Yuki hums at that, gazing at him for just a few moments more. “I'll let the others know, so you two can go in and they won't scare him,” she says, turning back around and holding the door open for herself, “Do you think he'll panic?”

“As long as he isn't given a reason to, I don't believe he will,” Inaho says, shaking his head, “He's been fine, so far. His reactions haven't been anything to warrant extreme caution.”

The blond remains quiet as they speak to each other, gently pressing his cheek to the pillow in his arms, breathing out softly. He does not seem nervous, yet, and remains gazing up at Inaho, listening even though he cannot quite comprehend what he is saying.

Yuki nods at that and lets herself back into the cantina; Inaho can hear her speaking even when the door shuts, her voice slightly muffled but audible, and he allows his gaze to slip back toward the blond, caught off-guard when he realises he is being stared at.

“Erm..”

He clears his throat softly, and the blond continues to stare, cocking his head somewhat.

Perhaps Yuki's presence intrigues him? Confuses him? Or perhaps he realises they are related, or is currently comparing them?

_I.. wonder how he'll react, in a few moments.._

“ _Brúnn..”_ the blond mumbles, meeting his eyes, “ _Brenna..?”_

 _Brenna?_ Inaho wonders, the word sounding almost like a Western name rather than an actual word. He is not quite sure what the first word was, it sounded like an actual word of some kind, but the blond is still looking at him, curious. “What.. are you..?”

“Alright, Nao, they promise not to be loud,” Yuki says as she opens the door, causing the blond to finally tear his gaze away and look up at her instead, surprise on his features. Her gaze slips to him after a moment, and she offers the blond a warm, friendly smile, one that causes the blond to immediately lower his gaze, burying his face in his pillow.

 _Ah, he's embarrassed,_ Inaho realises, carefully pulling at the wheelchair, trying to get it away from the door to allow it to open fully, _I don't think he realises Yuki-nee is an adult. Or perhaps her being nice to him overrides his fear?_ “Thank you, Yuki-nee,” he murmurs, pushing the chair past her, “I assume you'll be joining us? Or have you already eaten breakfast?”

“I already ate, but I'm staying,” Yuki hums, practically beaming as she shuts the door behind her, being quiet and gentle with it, “I wouldn't want to miss the chance to see Nao interacting with a strange boy!” She follows after her younger brother, footsteps low but heavy with her boots, and she tries to keep her distance, giving the blond some space.

Inaho tries to remain passive; he knows she means her words only in jest, but hearing her call their guest, who _seems_ completely human, 'strange' is unnerving.

Inko, Nina and Calm are sitting at their usual table when he raises his head, meeting their gazes for a few moments. They are talking quietly amongst themselves in carefully hushed voices, and they are even trying to be quiet as they eat, the sounds of utensils against bowls and plates quieter than it ever has been, low and echoey in the near-silent room. Matsuribi and Tsumugi are behind the counter at the end of the room, currently cooking the rest of the crew's breakfast, though they still seem curious and invested in whatever is about to happen. All of them are glancing over at the duo, quick, short glances so as to not let their eyes linger.

And this time, the blond _does_ seem to hear them speak, because he tenses up in his chair, face still hidden in his pillow as he goes still, stiff, shoulders immobile.

Coming to a slow stop just a few inches from the table – enough for a person to stand or sit in front of the wheelchair – Inaho allows the chair to rest for a moment before walking around it and crouching down in front of the blond, gingerly pulling at his hands. “Hey..” he calls quietly, tone still low, still gentle.

The blond shakes his head, tense, still nervous.

Inaho pauses for a moment, frowning as he gazes at his guest. He hesitantly rests his free hand where the blond's thigh would be and smooths the blanket, still gentle, still ginger, still cautious. “ **Hello** ,” he tries instead, attempting to coax the blond into showing even just a tiny bit of his face, wanting him to at least see that they are not alone, that there are other people, that no one means _any_ harm, that he is _safe_.

It works, albeit just a bit.

“ _H.. halló..”_ the blond whispers, hesitantly pulling the pillow away, “ _Lítill.. halló..”_

“Oh,” Inaho breathes, relieved. _Good,_ he thinks to himself, nodding, _This is good. He's willing to push past his nerves._ “Hi,” he returns quietly, continuing to smooth the blanket, trying to keep him calm, relaxed, even if just a little bit. “There.. are people..” he says slowly, carefully, gesturing behind him toward Inko, Nina and Calm behind him with his free hand, “.. do you.. think you can talk, in front of them?”

The blond gazes at him for a moment, just a second before he hesitantly lifts his gaze to glance up at the trio, and almost immediately looks away again upon meeting their eyes, but he does not hide his face. “ _Hverjir.. eru þeir..?”_ he murmurs, and it sounds like a question.

“I..” Inaho pauses again, not quite sure how to respond to that. There is little context to go on this time, but given the circumstances, perhaps the blond was asking who they might be or why they are here? “They.. want to talk to you,” he finally says, gesturing to them again.

“Maybe we should introduce ourselves, Nao?” Yuki suggests, and Inaho glances over his other shoulder to find the brunette sitting at the adjacent table, keeping a respectful distance away from their guest. “How is he with touch?”

“.. his response varies, but so far he has responded well,” Inaho answers, looking away from her and back at the blond, who is currently looking at his hand, the one still smoothing the blanket. _But.. if they were to introduce themselves, would he know how to respond?_ he wonders, hesitant to try this particular approach, _If he reacts oddly, it may not be a good sign on his part.._

But then again.. choices as to what to do next are rather limited, if they intend on continuing to try and keep the blond from panicking. Adding more people may end up disastrous, introducing him to adults who actually _look_ adult may add unneeded stress, and he may end up over-stimulated and react negatively.

If he could at least situate himself with the people here currently, the ones who seem closest to his age, then perhaps they could get over the stimulation and move on to improving his social interactions.

And, if successful, the blond will be able to eat _here_ , with everyone else, in a positive environment just until they get to Magadan. He will be able to eat the breakfast Inaho had promised him.

“.. should we.. introduce ourselves, then?” Inko questions after a moment.

Inaho meets the blond's gaze carefully, noting the slight unease in his blue-green eyes, but he seems much more at ease here, even with an increased number of people, than he had with Yagarai. “.. yes,” he finally says, nodding somewhat, “Who wants to go first, then?”

Silence.

Well, near-complete silence. The quiet, dull metallic clinks and clanks of metal still echo in the cantina from behind the bar, Tsumugi and Matsuribi unable to remain completely quiet as they prepare breakfast.

Inaho remains passive. “Nina, then,” he says after a few moments, “Since he's already seen you.”

“Erm..”

Inaho does not turn to look at her, instead keeping his eyes on the blond, whose grip has slackened on the pillow in his arms, just a little bit.

“.. but.. I made him uncomfortable, didn't I?”

“You can remedy that right now by introducing yourself first and showing you mean no harm,” Inaho states matter-of-factly, deciding it might be best to present the blond with someone at least very vaguely familiar, someone who he had some contact with.

Nina nods, lightly biting her bottom lip as she slowly gets up from the bench, standing still when the blond raises his head to look at her, the movement presumably distracting him. She starts to walk over hesitantly, her normally quiet footsteps too loud in the cantina, echoey like the metallic sounds, but she manages to situate herself beside Inaho. “.. **hello** ,” she greets in English, voice exceptionally soft. She gestures to herself, a small, deliberate gesture, before holding out a hand, “I'm.. Nina. Nina Klein.”

The blond's gaze flickers to her hand and he stares for a few awkward moments.

_.. ah. I knew this was a bad.. –_

Taking her hand very gently in his own, the blond cocks his head. “ _.. halló,”_ he whispers, and his own voice is even softer, lower. He gestures to himself with his free hand, pressing his hand to where his collarbone would be if the pillow were not in the way, and continues, “ _Ég heiti.._ **Slaine** _._ **Slaine Troyard** _.”_

Inaho's dark eyes widen slightly.

“Sl.. Slaine?” Nina repeats, “Is.. that your name? Slaine?” She makes another small gesture toward the blond this time, repeating a third time, “You're Slaine?”

The blond nods, and relaxes into a warm smile, “ _Já. Ég heiti_ **Slaine** _.”_

“I.. thought you said you didn't know his name,” Calm points out quietly, but his tone indicates surprise.

“I.. didn't,” Inaho says honestly.

“You.. didn't introduce yourself?”

Inaho suppresses a groan, knowing full well he will once again be scolded and reminded of proper manners and etiquette. He forces himself to shake his head after a few moments and stands up, knowing that if he knew what shame felt like, his face would be red right about now. “It.. never came up, when I found him on the ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, what Slaine says;  
> "Wait.."  
> "Fish? Food? Fish?"  
> "For me? Fish? For me?"  
> "Thank you."  
> "Fish?"  
> "Brown." (Brenna is a name, which also refers to brown)  
> "Hello." x2  
> "Who are they?"  
> "Hello. My name is.. Slaine."  
> "Yes. My name is Slaine."  
> .  
> I was actually going to postpone the name thing for like, at least three more chapters, but then I thought of this and thought it was a hundred times better. and yay!! for another update within a good time frame!


	18. Chapter 18

Slaine, thankfully, seems to be at relative ease amongst his new peers, loosely gripping Nina’s hands in his own. “ _N.. Nina..?”_ he murmurs, testing the name on his tongue, “ _Nina?”_ It sounds odd when he says it, his heavy accent contorting her name. Still, it does not sound drastically warped, and Inaho assumes he sounds the same trying to repeat Slaine’s words.

Lighting up, Nina nods a few times. “Yes! I’m Nina!” she affirms, keeping her voice low for him, “It’s very nice to meet you, Slaine.”

“ _.. gaman að hitta þig, Nina,”_ Slaine returns. Pulling away, he presses his cheek back against the pillow, something that seems reflexive, not done out of fear or nervousness, and he glances up at Inaho, seeming _curious_.

“His skin feels cool, Inaho,” she says quietly, “Do you think he's cold?”

Inaho hesitates somewhat, not quite sure how to answer in a way that would make the blond seem odd. “I.. think he's fine,” he says carefully, “He doesn't sleep with the blanket on, so.. I believe his temperature is not a problem, at the moment. If he were cold, I think he would have tried to remedy that himself. If he lived somewhere around Russia, then he would probably be used to the cold.”

Nina hums at that, nodding, “That's probably the case.. But if he does get cold, we have extra blankets and clothing in storage. Someone could get them for you.”

Everyone goes quiet after that for a few moments, no one quite sure what to do next. Slaine responded rather well to Nina, given the fact that he had seemed put off at first given their first meeting, but.. this is a good sign. Slaine remains quiet as well, gently squeezing the pillow to his chest, looking around the room curiously, trying to figure out what everything is.

“.. maybe.. you should go next, Inaho?” Calm suggests, and Inaho glances at Slaine, who is currently gazing over at Matsuribi and Tsumugi, who have resumed cooking, though it is obvious that they are trying to be quieter with Slaine in the room. “Since, uh, y'know, you're the one who's been taking care of him and he probably doesn't know your name..” he adds, smiling again, and Inaho realises that is the next best option.

“Slaine?” Inaho calls softly, and the blond immediately looks at him, lighting up, seemingly happy at the use of his name.

“ _Já?”_

“It's.. nice to meet you,” Inaho murmurs, holding out a hand after a moment.

Just as he had done to Nina, Slaine gazes up at him for a few moments before accepting his hand, grasping it gently in his own, and smiles. Using that soft, gentle tone again, he says, “ _Lítill? Nafn þitt er Lítill.”_

Blinking at the utterance, Nina finds herself caught off guard. Calm clears his throat and holds a hand to his mouth, trying to hide a smirk when Inaho turns his head to look between the two of them, not seeming amused.

“What?” Inaho asks, frowning at them.

There is no way they could have understood him – he _knows_ they only speak English and Japanese, having discussed the need for all of them to at least learn one more so they could interact with people at various ports. They had agreed to each learn a different one, though.. not much progress has actually been made on that front.

Calm immediately shakes his head and holds a hand up, saying, “Nothing.”

It certainly does not seem like ' _nothing_ '.

“Then why are you laughing?” Inaho questions, gaze flickering between Inko and Yuki, who seem to be equally perplexed as he is. Even Matsuribi and Tsumugi have confused looks on their faces, indicating that it must be something only Calm and Nina could understand, and when he looks back to Slaine, the blond seems to be just as confused, with the way his teal eyes are looking between the two fair-haired crew members.

“It.. it's just..” Nina trails off, the smile on her lips clumsy, _knowing_. She is hiding something.

“Get him to say that word again, the one with the 'L',” Calm offers, and Inaho gives him a blank look before he returns his attention to Slaine.

 _.. if that will get you to tell me the truth, then alright,_ Inaho thinks to himself, remembering that Slaine often uses the word at the end of his comments or by itself, seemingly using it to get attention. He is still not entirely sure what it means, and neither should his companions, but.. “ **Hello** , Slaine,” he greets quietly, and the blond smiles, _happy_.

“ _Halló, Lítill!”_ Slaine returns, forgoing his soft tone for a slightly – just an octave– louder one, seeming more energetic.

Calm snickers, shaking his head as he looks away from the duo to bury his face in his arms, trying to muffle his laughter.

Slaine tenses up at the sound, smile slipping, though he regains his composure after a second, relaxing once he realises that there is no danger.

“.. what do you find amusing?” Inaho questions, relieved that Slaine had not seized up with fear; he wonders what the two foreigners could possibly find funny that no one else understands. He glances at Nina, who is lightly biting her bottom lip, trying to supress giggles and smiles.

“It's.. it's the word he says,” Nina says slowly, hesitantly, “It.. kind of.. sounds like the English word for.. 'small'.”

Inaho pauses for a moment, not liking where she is going with this. “.. which.. is..?” he asks slowly, voice low as he tries to remain passive.

“ **Little**.”

Slaine blinks at that, glancing upward at Nina, seeming confused. “ _Lítill?”_ he murmurs, and the way he says it is _very_ similar to the word Nina had said, with just a slight change in the stress of syllables. Just like his ' _halló_ ' sounds extraordinarily close to Nina and Calm's ' **hello** '. His gaze flickers between the two, and he seems increasingly curious and invested in this new revelation, teal eyes lingering on Inaho's dark ones.

“He gave you a cute nickname, Nao!” Yuki coos, seeming pleased, “That's adorable! He must have wanted to call you _something_ , since you're the one taking care of him, so he gave you something that fits!”

“It isn't cute,” Inaho mumbles, trying to remain passive in front of their guest, not sure how he would react if he were to suddenly get upset.

“ _I_ think it's cute,” Inko hums, beaming, “He hasn't even been here long, and he already knows that you're small, just guessing.”

 _I don't think he was guessing,_ Inaho thinks to himself, the thought slightly more upsetting; Slaine must have taken his height into consideration when judging it against the pirate's heights and perhaps Yagarai's, given he had not yet seen anyone else before he started using the word. “My.. name is Inaho,” he says quietly, hoping that once Slaine learns his true name, he will stop using the nickname. “Inaho,” he repeats, gesturing to himself with his free hand.

“ _I.. In.. aho..?”_ Slaine repeats, seeming confused, “ _Nafn þitt er.. Ina.. ho?”_

“Yes,” Inaho nods, and Slaine smiles at the affirmation.

“ _.. Inaho..?”_ Slaine tries again, slowly starting to light up, “ _Gaman að hitta þig, Inaho!_ _Þakka þér fyrir að sjá um mig, Inaho!”_ His grip tightens on Inaho's hand and he raises his other to gently clasp the brunet's in both of his own, and the action seems familiar, friendly.

Inaho blinks at the blond's sudden energy, rendered silent, surprised, and equally taken off-guard like his companions, judging by the fact that they, too, are silent.

Slaine gazes up at him patiently, beaming, smiling warmly, and he seems thoroughly happy with this new information, “ _Inaho?”_

“Wow,” Calm finally breathes, and Inaho glances at him, “He _really_ likes saying your name.”

Inaho ignores Calm’s comment, almost positive that there is some hidden meaning behind that last part.

It does not matter either way. He is happy with this outcome, and it seems Slaine has completely disregarded the nickname in favour of using his real one. It means Slaine is wholly committed to learning what they are able to teach him, and may adjust better to this new world than Inaho had initially thought.

Slaine's hands still feel cool against his own, unfamiliarly cool, and he can see why Nina thought he might have been cold; his body temperature, despite the clothing and blanket, is still surprisingly far from the normal human one. At least the likelihood of him overheating is low, and the low temperatures in Magadan should keep him regulated. Unless they do something like set him near a fireplace, or draw him a warm bath.. Slaine _should_ be relatively okay.

Pulling gently on Inaho's hands, Slaine gazes up at him, and Inaho leans down so that they are slightly more eye-to-eye. “ _Inaho?”_ he calls, switching back to that soft, low tone.

“Yes?” Inaho asks patiently, and Slaine gazes at him for a second, quiet.

“ _Inaho, matur? Fiskur?”_ Slaine asks, “ _Ég er svangur.. Gjörðu svo vel?_ ”

Inaho blinks, eyes widening just a fraction. _Oh,_ he realises, having forgotten what they had come here for in the first place.

Food. Breakfast, for the both of them. Slaine has been waiting patiently and putting up with them this whole time, and..

 _Oh,_ Inaho realises, _That’s why, you.._

Neither of them had dinner, last night. After falling asleep, Inaho had not bothered to go and get them some, because Slaine had been asleep, and it seems he had stayed asleep even after he left. Though.. because of that dream.. Inaho had not been hungry in the least.

“What's wrong, Inaho?” Inko questions, worry in her quiet tone.

“He's hungry,” Inaho says, nodding to show the blond that he understood, “I.. fell asleep, after lunch, and I didn't get him a meal when I woke up. I don't know how fast his metabolism is, but he could get hungry rather quickly..” _Actually, given his.. circumstances, he may have a fast metabolism, especially if he's swimming everywhere. He may be more active than he seems,_ he thinks to himself seconds later;

Slaine _is_ heavy in his arms, and though most of that can be attributed to his tail, it would not be odd if Slaine had more muscle than he seems to have. Swimming is one of the most strenuous exercises.

“Oh, well.. get him breakfast, then. We can keep him company for a minute or so,” Inko says, gesturing behind her, toward Matsuribi and Tsumugi, “We're having oatmeal, fish, and eggs.”

Inaho gazes at her for a moment, briefly wondering if perhaps he should simply get breakfast and take Slaine back to his room and avoid having to explain why Slaine cannot use silverware and eats with his hands.. Of course, on the day he would bring Slaine, they would be eating food that is almost impossible to eat without silverware.. “I see. Thank you, Inko. I'll be right back, then,” he finally says after a moment, and Slaine lets him go without any fight when he straightens up and pulls away, gazing up at him curiously.

“ _Inaho?”_ Slaine calls quietly, cocking his head.

“I'll be right back,” Inaho promises, “Alright? You want food, _fiskur_?”

Slaine lights up at that, nodding and hugging the pillow back to his chest, seeming pleased. “ _Takk fyrir, Inaho,”_ he murmurs, watching as he leaves, gaze lingering on the back of his head. His gaze flickers between the quartet once Inaho is out of earshot, and he settles his gaze on Inko, cocking his head.

* * *

 

“Hello..” Slaine murmurs, gazing at the girl with the violet eyes – she has been relatively quiet so far, with a few comments here and there, but her voice is soft like the other's, and she has yet to raise it or act in a hostile way.. She is sitting beside a blond, the boy who had been loud earlier – he had been startled when he had laughed earlier, and is still not sure why he had done so; no one else besides him and Nina had seemed particularly amused by anything that was said..

 _It's just.. a few more people,_ he tells himself reassuringly, smiling, _A few more, and then I can eat, and then I can spend the rest of my day with Inaho._

“What's.. your name?” he asks quietly, holding his hand out after a moment.

“ _Oh..”_ The girl blinks in surprise, violet eyes widening. She leans forward and takes his hand in her own, being gentle, still, just as gentle as Inaho and Nina had been. “ _Inko. I'm Inko,”_ she says.

Slaine gazes at her, surprised by the odd name. “Inko?” he repeats, “Your.. name is Inko?”

All of their names are so odd. They feel foreign on his tongue, and had they not repeated them a few times for him, he would be unsure of how to properly pronounce them. Remembering _how_ to say them, and which one belongs to which will be his main issue, now. Their names still give no indication as to what language it is they are speaking, though he is getting more and more unsure of if their languages are compatible in the first place. They might be race specific, which makes learning.. quite difficult.

Inko nods and smiles at him. “ _It's.. nice to meet you, Slaine,”_ she murmurs, and she starts to pull away from him, letting him go so that she can pull on the boy's arm, the blond beside her. They move a bit on the wooden thing they are sitting on – it seems to be a long chair of some sort, without a back to it, and it seems like it can fit many people. “ _He's Calm,”_ she says, gesturing toward the blond.

_What..?_

The boy looks over her shoulder – he seems to be taller than the others, judging simply from the way that his shoulder seems to be higher than hers, and he seems _longer_ , if Slaine counts his bottom half. He waves, a patient smile on his lips, “ _It's nice t' meet'cha, Slaine. I'm Calm.”_

 _Calm..?_ Slaine wonders, able to recognise the word, the word familiar. “Calm..? _Róa_? _Rólegur_..?” he mumbles, and the two give him confused looks, seemingly taken by surprise.

“ _No, just 'Calm',”_ the other blond says, and Slaine gazes at him for a few moments, watching as he gestures to himself, “ _Calm.”_

 _Oh, is.. that his name?_ Slaine realises, nodding as he gazes between the two, managing a small smile. “Inko.. and Calm,” he says quietly, pointing at them, and Inko returns the smile with a warm one of her own, nodding in return.

“ _Yes. It's nice to meet you, Slaine.”_

“It's.. nice to meet you..” Slaine murmurs, hugging the pillow back to his chest. A small wave of relief washes over his mind; these.. _beings_ truly do not seem to mean him any harm, and they are far kinder than he had previously anticipated. It seems Inaho is not an exception to their kind demeanour, but rather an example.

An.. _odd_ example, but an example nonetheless. Inaho is talking more around – Slaine _assumes_ these are his friends – these beings, and he seems to be more at ease, but he still seems exceptionally quiet, compared to them. The others seem more outgoing, and Slaine suspects Inaho may have asked them to be quieter in his presence, given Calm's effort to attempt to muffle himself..

 _I'll.. have to thank Inaho, later, for that,_ Slaine thinks to himself, allowing his gaze to return back to the brunet, _He's.. considerate. I'm sure if I wait just a bit longer, somehow.. he'll get me home.._

“ _He.. seems_ **really** _fixated on Inaho,”_ Calm murmurs, and Slaine glances at him, though his gaze strays away when he realises the other blond is not talking to him; he _seems_ to be talking to Inko and Nina, given he is looking between them.

“ _Well, Inaho's been the only one taking care of him for a few days. It isn't that surprising that he's used to him, by now,”_ Inko points out.

“ _Maybe he_ **likes** _..”_

“ _He doesn't. Please behave yourself.”_

Slaine blinks in surprise upon hearing Inaho’s voice. Raising his head, he finds the brunet facing him again, holding a plate of fish, and some kind of.. white.. yellow.. circular _thing_ beside the fish, as well as a bowl of some foreign, completely unknown substance. It has steam coming off of it, though the steam looks different not coming from cracks in the ocean floor in the form of bubbles. Assuming, like last time, that this is all food.. Inaho is trying to keep him appropriately fed and satiated.

He remains still when Inaho approaches him and sits on the elongated chair in front of him, gently setting the plate and the bowl down on the wooden table – their bottoms sound weird in the air, and Slaine has realised that they are made of a different material than the ones back home – along with some vaguely familiar utensils.

“ _Here you are, Slaine,”_ Inaho says, and Slaine looks at him again, looks between his hand and his dark, dark eyes, which are hard to read again. He looks kind of.. serious?

“ _You're.. going to feed him, Nao?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, what Slaine says;  
> "It's nice to meet you, Nina."  
> "Yes?"  
> "Your name is 'Lítill'."  
> "Hello!"  
> "Inaho? Your name is Inaho?"  
> "It's nice to meet you, Inaho! Thank you for taking care of me, Inaho!"  
> "Inaho, food? Fish? I'm hungry. Please?"  
> "Thank you."  
> -  
> "Calm? [Calm? Calm?]" (he uses the verb and adjective for 'calm')  
> -  
> ahh!! i apologise!! this is painfully late;; i was working on something ~~(that i hope you guys will look forward to next month ❤)~~ and then i was at the hospital, 'cause i got really sick.. but!! i am doing much better now and i'm free to write, so please enjoy this heavily delayed chapter;;


	19. Chapter 19

“He's.. kind of clumsy..” Inaho says, and the statement is not quite a lie, but it is not quite the whole truth, either.

Slaine, with how curious he is about all things _human_ , seems kind of clumsy when it comes to handling human objects, such as the pillow from before..

 _Which reminds me, I have to clean that up.. he was kind enough to put all the feathers in a pile for me, so I just have to find where he hid the pillowcase.._ he thinks to himself, wondering if it is a normal part of Slaine's behaviour to hide objects. The glass cup, too.. Slaine had hid it well enough that neither of them would accidentally shatter it.

“I don't want him to make a mess,” he continues, and that much is truthful, though Yuki still has a small, sort of confused smile on her lips. “Here, Slaine,” he repeats, and the blond gazes at him with an innocent look on his features, seeming just the slightest bit confused. Cutting the egg into small pieces, he remains quiet and passive when Slaine’s eyes widen in surprise upon seeing the yolk break apart. He holds the fork up in front of Slaine’s lips, choosing to feed him a smaller piece first, in case he does not like it.

Slaine gazes at him for a moment before leaning forward and parting his lips.

 _Ah, good,_ Inaho thinks to himself, relieved again, _Does he know what a fork is, then? If he does, feeding him would be much easier.._

Before Inaho can finish his thoughts, Slaine takes the fork away from him, causing the brunet to tense up in surprise.

Slaine stares at the fork and egg before eating it, chewing on the new food slowly, carefully, and Inaho has to fight the urge to take the fork away from him. He smiles when he has finished chewing, and rests the fork against his lips as he gazes expectantly at the other, not feeling the least bit bad for surprising him.

“I think he wants to feed himself,” Inko points out, and Inaho holds in a sigh, reluctantly pushing the plate toward Slaine. She adjusts herself somewhat on the bench, leaning forward so that she can look at Slaine and allow Nina to look at him from behind her back, “There's no harm in letting him, if he wants to. Maybe he's gained better control over his hands, since he's been resting?”

“If he makes a mess, we'll help clean it up,” Nina offers, smiling somewhat when Inaho turns to glance at his friends.

Slaine pokes at the egg before he starts to eat it with the fork – seeming unusually adept at using what Inaho thought was a foreign object – and continues to chew slowly on the small pieces of egg cutting up the fish as he silently eats.

“Think he likes it?” Calm asks curiously, resting his cheek against his hand, gazing between the other blond and Inaho.

“He would have stopped eating it if he didn't like it,” Inaho says, recalling the incident with the candle wax.

Doctor Yagarai has yet to mention that or bring it up.. Hopefully, he will blame that incident on Slaine’s exhaustion, and chalk it up to being heavily dehydrated and starving. Slaine’s behaviours do not need to be examined any more closely than they have been, by anyone. If they are, then they will think him more odd than he already is.

“.. when will we be arriving in Magadan?” Inaho asks.

“Probably tonight,” Nina says, “You guys will have to round up the pirates again before we dock, and the water's going to be icy, so we'll have to use a smaller boat.. We also have to find a place to house all of us..”

 _Ah, right. The pirates,_ Inaho recalls, frowning somewhat. They are still on their own ship, obediently following them to Magadan since they have their leader in tow – but when they reach land, or ice, as Nina is saying, Inaho is not quite sure how they will react. They have no weaponry, but they could still very well be dangerous and unpredictable.

“You two can look after Slaine, then,” Inaho says, addressing Nina and Calm, “While the rest of us deal with the pirates.”

“Sure,” Nina immediately agrees, beaming, “We'll keep him occupied while you're gone.”

“Thank you,” Inaho murmurs, giving his attention back to Slaine, who is currently preoccupied with eating his food.

Slaine has not touched the oatmeal, yet, though it is not quite within arm's reach for him, resting beside Inaho's own arm. Again, he is setting the bones to the side, and seems to have realised that he can eat the yolk as well, choosing to set small pieces of fish on top of the liquid.

 _He.. must've been hungry,_ Inaho realises, feeling bad, _Perhaps he does have a fast metabolism. I should make sure to keep him fed, until he gets back home.. That way, he'll be able to get back without any problems.._

“Nao?” Yuki calls, slight concern in her voice.

Inaho turns his head over to look at her, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“Nao, you should eat..–”

“ _Nao?”_ Slaine repeats after her, sounding confused. Gently pressing the fork's prongs to his lips, he gazes curiously between the two of them, the nickname probably sounding odd to him. “ _Nao?”_ he repeats again, and it still sounds odd with his heavy accent, contorted.

The group blink at that, caught off-guard by his copying Yuki.

“.. it's.. nothing,” Inaho finally says after a few moments of stunned quietness, Tsumugi's and Matsuribi's clattering still in the background, low. He gently pushes the bowl of oatmeal toward him and gestures toward it, “You can eat that, too, okay, Slaine?”

Slaine's gaze slips to the bowl, and he blinks a few times, seeming confused for a few moments before he pokes at it with his fork, hesitantly eating just a tiny, tiny clump of the meal. He chews slowly again and then pulls the fork away from his lips, gazing curiously again at Inaho, mumbling, “ _Ekkert..”_

“He.. might want to try and learn our language,” Inaho says, giving his attention back to Yuki. “Please watch him for me. I'll be right back.”

*-*-*

Slaine turns as best he can in his chair – it moves, a little bit, and he thinks he could probably move himself since the circular.. _things_.. seem to go back in forth – and watches curiously, confused, as Inaho leaves the room. “Inaho?” he calls, slightly worried, “Inaho?” He feels the warm material bunch up at his waist, and it still feels kind of odd against his skin, and the fluffy sea foam slips from his arms and to the floorboards, silent. “Inaho?” he calls a third time, trying to earn his attention.

Inaho turns around at the third call, his hand resting over the door's knob. “ _What's wrong, Slaine?”_

“You're.. leaving..?” Slaine asks, lightly biting on his bottom lip, “Are you coming back?”

Inaho waits a few seconds before coming back over. He leans down, picking up the sea foam and very gently places it back onto Slaine's lap, smoothing it so that it is not creased. His fingers linger for a moment, hesitant, and he pulls away after a second, leaning down to meet Slaine's eyes.

Slaine remains quiet as the other gazes at him, copying his movements, very gently tracing his fingers along the sea foam's surface; he can feel those odd things inside, the weird, soft things that had exploded from the thing before. “Inaho..?” he says after a moment, and the brunet cocks his head, seeming perfectly at ease.

“ _He.. seems to get anxious very, very easily. But a few reassurances seem to help him, and he calms down rather quickly..”_ Inaho says, and his voice is soft again, soft and low and gentle and Slaine realises he is talking to his friends and not to him. “ _Could you keep him distracted? And get him some water? He'll probably try to ask for some..”_

“ _Sure, Inaho,”_ Inko says, and she nods a few times; Slaine thinks she may be agreeing with something that Inaho said, or perhaps answering him?

“ _Thank you. I'll be right back, then,”_ Inaho says, turning back to look at Slaine. He smiles somewhat, and Slaine gazes up at him, “ _I'll be right back, okay, Slaine?”_

Slaine only nods as he watches Inaho leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slaine says;  
> "Nothing."  
> -  
> friends, i am feeling so much better! i got my appetite back, i'm eating at least two meals a day now and i'm no longer horribly nauseated. chapters will resume as normal (or, at least, i will try very hard to make sure they do)


	20. Chapter 20

Slaine is caught off-guard when Inaho suddenly smiles at him, still not quite used to the other's show of emotion – it has only been a few days, after all, but it seems like.. perhaps, maybe, Inaho is not one to openly display any emotion, unless he is around familiar faces. Perhaps Inaho allows his guard to slip more when he is around these beings, and he relaxes more, becomes more emotional..? _Something to keep in mind, I suppose,_ he thinks to himself, gently pressing his hands against the sea foam on his lap, turning his head to watch as Inaho leaves the room.

The door closes with a soft _thud_ and Slaine slowly turns back to face Inaho's friends, who are gazing at him with curious looks on their faces, who look torn between wanting to say something and wanting to remain quiet. They glance between each other, seeming not sure what to do now that Inaho is gone, and remain quiet for a few moments, Inko poking at her own food, and Nina sipping on a glass of water.

Looking away from them, Slaine picks up his own fork again and starts to finish what is left on his plate, deciding to leave the contents in the bowl for last. It had not really tasted like anything, much like the soft, yellowish things he had eaten yesterday, and it had been kind of mushy, like a jellyfish's body.. But, unlike a jellyfish, this seems to be edible, it is just bland and tasteless.

“ _.. so.. uh..”_ Calm shifts somewhat in the chair, pressing his hands to the table before him, “ _What are we.. gonna do?”_ His voice is still low, still carefully low, and Slaine glances up at him, chewing on a small piece of fish coated in the yellowish stuff that had come from the white circle.

 _This_ tastes fine to him, tastes like something unfamiliar, but it has taste and he _thinks_ he might like it. It tastes of sea salt, faintly.

“ _.. actually, we could try something,”_ Nina says, and she sets the glass down on the table, the water inside churning with her motions, “ _Inaho said some of what he says sounds like English. Why don't we get him some parchment and charcoal and write things down? And he can write things down, too, and maybe we can figure out what language he's speaking..”_

Slaine only recognises Inaho's name leaving her lips, though he has a feeling they are still not quite addressing him, leaving him free to listen to their quiet chatter as he eats. It feels.. kind of nice, their chatter; at least, it is much better than the usual near-silence of Inaho's room. Chatter reminds him of his home, of how the others used to talk in the palace halls, how their voices bounced and echoed off of the ruined, crumbling walls..

Familiar. It is familiar.

“ _That's a great idea. We could definitely narrow it down, that way, and maybe someone will recognise it if we show it around. We could also try to teach him some basic Japanese,”_ Inko says, and Slaine blinks a few times when she looks toward him, a kind of.. he thinks that emotion might be _playful_ , look in her eyes. Smiling, she looks kind of mischievous now.

_She.. looks like.._

The smile and glint in her eyes is similar to how his friend would get whenever the two of them went to places that they were not supposed to be in; haunted shipwrecks, the ruined parts of the palace, the deeper, scarier ocean depths where giant squid and eerily glowing jellyfish reside..

Slaine’s heart sinks. _I.. wonder how she's doing,_ he starts to think, the thought of her saddening; he has not seen her in awhile. He would love to see her again, but..

Pressing the fork’s prongs against his lips again, he disregards those sad thoughts and waits for the brunette to continue with what it _seems_ like she wants to say or do. “Is.. something..” he trails off slowly, pulling the fork away to cough quietly into his hand. _Ah, right,_ he realises, glancing at Nina's glass of water. His throat feels kind of dry, has felt mostly dry as he is receiving less water than his body is used to. “Water?” he tries, and he points to Nina's glass, easily catching their attention, “Can I please have water?”

“ _.. 'vatn'?”_ Calm repeats, cocking his head somewhat, “ _Does he mean 'water'? It looks like he's pointing to the water.”_

“ _Inaho did say he would probably try to ask for some. Let's get him water and find some parchment and charcoal, and then we can start.”_

* * *

 

“.. we arrive in Magadan, we'll first look for housing and then ask around about our guest's circumstances, understood? He’s still under Kaizuka's care, and he very may well remain that way once we arrive,” Magbaredge says, gently tapping the quill's point against the table, the sound quiet in the room. The paper before her is filled with their guest's known information, which is very little at the moment: eye colour, hair colour, and ethnicity, which is currently labeled as 'Russian?'

His name, height, age and a section called 'recognisable physical qualities' are left blank, though under that is a small paragraph detailing Inaho's account of the blond's inability to walk, as well as the fact that they had found him on a Japanese pirate ship that had been sailing in Russian waters.

Mizusaki nods, taking note of that on her own sheet of parchment, hers just as detailed as the captain's currently is – a log will be necessary, especially given the fact that their guest was a hostage, and they will have to turn in a copy once they find his family. She lifts her head after a moment, looking torn, and asks in a low, low tone,“Because.. he can't walk, captain?”

“Because.. he cannot walk, yes,” Magbaredge answers, and she sighs quietly at that, wondering how someone like the blond was left _alone_ long enough to be taken from wherever his home is, _unnoticed_ , and taken hostage on a Japanese pirate ship. The blond certainly does not appear to be all that old, but he does not look like a child either, but she is sure he would have been monitored closely to prevent him from getting hurt.. at least, he should have been. “We'll call Kaizuka down later, and see if he has any further updates on our guest's condition. Perhaps he's learnt mo–..”

“Captain?”

Without so much as a knock, the door slowly opens after the quiet call, and Magbaredge holds in a sigh upon seeing just who it is has let themselves in.

“Kaizuka junior,” she says evenly, and Inaho enters the room after a moment, shutting the door behind him, “I believe your sister taught you the importance of not startling people, as we've discussed before.”

Remaining quiet for a second, Inaho gazes at the captain before he says plainly, “But I made my presence known before entering the room, didn't I?”

Magbaredge presses her lips into a thin line, clearly not amused with Inaho's completely serious, and yet painful response; he is simply repeating what she had mentioned last time about how he should try harder to _not_ frighten people. “.. do you need something, Kaizuka?” she asks after a moment, regaining herself, “Were you not watching over our guest?”

“I had a request, actually. Regarding Slaine,” Inaho says, and he pauses again upon seeing the slightly confused looks on the captain's and the first mate's faces, “His name is Slaine. He managed to make that clear, when we tried introducing ourselves to him.”

“You.. should have started with that, Kaizuka, but go ahead and continue,” Magbaredge murmurs, voice low as she makes note of the blond's first name on her sheet of parchment. Mizusaki follows suit, the sounds of their quills against parchment soft, scratchy.

“I don't want Slaine to have any contact with the pirates. At all,” Inaho says simply, “Can that be arranged?”

“I'd like a reason.”

“Seeing normal people is stressful enough for him, though he seems to be doing very well currently with Inko and the others, as well as my sister; he still has an aversion to Yagarai, and I can think of no other reason than the fact that he's older. Seeing the pirates who kept him hostage for an indeterminate amount of time would cause him undue stress, and may be hazardous to his mental health in the long term. I want to minimize the amount of interaction he has with potentially stressful individuals as much as possible, at least until his mental health is assured.”

Magbaredge remains silent, seemingly taking the information in, as she had done before when Inaho admitted to her that it would be impossible for Slaine to walk. She taps the quill's point against the desk again, tiny ink blotches forming with each deliberate motion, the very edge of the paper stained black instead of coloured its usual yellow. “.. have a seat, Kaizuka,” she finally says, and Inaho does just that.

“Yes, captain?”

“Let's discuss this further, in detail. We'll need as much information about him as possible, if we're to find his family or a shred of evidence when we arrive in Magadan, later on today.”


	21. Intermission 2

Harklight had met Slaine when he was five.

Slaine was a tiny, delicate thing – shy and quiet, and still dependent on adults for comfort and attention. The two of them are not that far apart in age, but.. Harklight was unsure, at first, how to go about gaining his trust and affection. After accepting a permanent job from Slaine’s father to be Slaine’s caretaker, he soon realised that all the young one needed was company. Constant, unchanging company.

Slaine had his father, sure, but his father was forever busy doing work for the king, busy doing work around the palace.. He had little time to actually spend with his son. Until Harklight appeared, Slaine had spent most of his time in the company of his dear cousin and her father, though it was not quite the same.

Her cousin’s father was kind, affectionate, but he gave most of his attention to his daughter. Harklight found nothing wrong with the mindset, but..

During the first few days they spent together, it was clear that Slaine needed more, after being neglected by his own father.

Constant company and affection.

Harklight was able to provide that. In copious amounts. Slaine seemed to respond rather well to him, and did not seem as resentful spending time with his dear cousin.

But he still missed his father.

* * *

 

“Papa?” Slaine calls softly, peeking his head into the small room, eyes flickering over the various odd tools and other things he does not know the names of – he knows they are related to his father's work in some way, that some of them aid in research, and some of them here specifically down here to be researched, but..

.. but when his father talks about his research, it goes over Slaine's head. Most of it does, at least. He understands bits and pieces here and there, things about sea organisms and lights and how differing amounts of light seem to aid or halt the organism's growth.

Gently grasping the stone door frame, Slaine hesitates for a few moments, wondering if he should perhaps enter. If he waits inside, maybe his father will come back faster? And then they could spend time together.

He can see all kinds of organisms inside the room, a few colourful pieces of coral, seaweed, a large supply of it, kelp, and something his father referred to as a 'sea anemone'. He swims forward, and his fingers graze the nearest slab, “Papa..?”

A hand at his shoulder causes him to stop and turn his head, teal meeting painfully familiar navy eyes.

Harklight.

Harklight, with that patient, kind look on his features, the one he almost always has on.

Slaine has come to be wary of that look, to dislike it. Because he has learnt what it usually means. “Papa.. can't play with me today.. can he?” he asks quietly.

Harklight shakes his head. “I'm.. sorry, Slaine. Doctor Troyard is busy today,” he apologises, and it seems sincere, it _always_ seems sincere when it is Harklight, but it is not the same. “You can play with me today, if you'd like,” he offers instead, and he very gently pulls the child away from the door, loosely grasping his hand, instead, “Is that alright?”

Slaine looks.. empty, inside, teal eyes devoid of their usual innocent cheer. “I.. think I'll spend my time in my room, today,” he says, and his voice is soft, unusually soft.

Harklight blinks at the reaction, taken off-guard. “Of – of course,” he manages to say after a moment, nodding, “I'll bring you lunch in an hour, then.”

* * *

 

A year later, when Slaine is nine, Harklight brings up what had happened.

“He.. doesn't ask about you anymore, Doctor,” Harklight murmurs, helping the man sort through the various plant-like matter on the slab; the kelp and seaweed are similar, extremely so, but he has learnt that they actually seem to belong to the same kind of species. The kelp forest near here is an abundant source of large, purplish-brown kelp, while the seaweed is gathered from elsewhere, where it is smaller, a mere few inches in size, and coloured green.

“But he's better?”

“.. he's.. doing much better than he was a year ago, but.. as a result, he's grown much more, erm.. _dependent_ , on others,” Harklight answers, recalling the times Slaine had been too stressed to be left alone, how panicked and anxious he had been whenever he had to be by himself. He has certainly matured since then, but.. as a result of lack of interaction with someone who is supposed to be closest to him, he has grown far more dependent on Harklight and his dear cousin, both of which supply that lack of familial affection.

“.. I see,” the older man says after a moment, and he stops sorting through the plant matter, looking hurt and unnerved by the new information. “You'll.. continue to take care of him, won't you? I've heard from the staff that he adores you.”

Harklight forces a nod, though his heart is a lump in his throat. Taking care of Slaine is.. difficult. Assuring his mental health is a problem most of the time, and whenever he thinks the boy is getting better, they have gone backwards and Slaine is a ball of nerves and anxiety all over again, even with someone in the room with him.

But..

_.. but.. Slaine is like family, to me. I won't abandon him._

“Of course, Doctor Áki. I'll try my best to continue to care for Slaine.”

* * *

 

A few months after that, Harklight decides it might be good for Slaine to have a pet. He brings him to an area where jellyfish are prominent, and shows Slaine how to properly feed and care for them, how to get them to listen to basic commands even though they lack a brain.

Slaine names one of them 'Ljós'. Ljós takes to following the boy around almost everywhere, and quickly becomes Slaine's favourite of the hundreds of jellyfish around the palace.

* * *

 

Slaine is ten when he starts venturing out on his own, collecting what he deems 'treasures'.

Going off on excursions for hours at a time, the blond is off all by himself, and when he comes back, he comes back to the palace with glistening coins – human currency – and jewels and baubles and all sorts of foreign objects he should never have come into contact with.

And he comes back perfectly fine. Not anxious. Not panicked. Not upset, or anything, in fact, he comes back happy. Harklight decided to go ahead and let him wander around after the first three attempts at trying to stop or impede him, realising that perhaps this was a coping mechanism, that perhaps if this was a way of self-expression or just simply a hobby Slaine had decided to devote himself to.

Slaine does not even seem to have interest in what all these foreign objects are, just the fact that they are pretty and shiny and nice to look at, and he rarely asks questions about them. He decorates his room with the objects, sprinkles them around everywhere so he can look at them whenever he wants to. Soon, his room is almost completely overrun by jewels and coins, the objects almost as numerous as the pearls that Slaine collects. Harklight notices he is extremely gentle with his treasures, cleaning and polishing them almost every day so that they keep their sheen. The task seems to keep him occupied, so Harklight says nothing and simply offers the boy some medicinal balm when his fingers become blistered from how much effort he is putting into keeping the treasures pretty.

 

 

A few months after these regular trips to who-knows-where, Slaine brings home a human skull.

* * *

 

On his sixteenth birthday, Slaine loses a dear friend.

A few days after, he goes right back to how he had been as a child: empty.

* * *

 

Slaine is twenty-two when Harklight realises the blond's mental health is still alarmingly irregular, still fluctuating between 'barely functioning' and 'functioning well enough to pass as normal'. Slaine is doing far better than he was when he was sixteen, and is doing slightly better than he was when he was ten. He is still childishly dependent on Harklight, even more so after the loss of his dear friend, and he has not mentioned his father in years.

“How are you feeling today, Slaine?” Harklight asks softly, watching as Slaine holds up what he knows is a ruby – the blond still calls them sparkly rocks, Harklight never having been one to tell him what they actually are and where they come from – to the blue light that keeps their palace well-lit, and he seems content enough to simply gaze at the gems.

“Good,” Slaine says simply, turning his head to smile somewhat at his caretaker, smoothing the ruby's uneven edges with his fingers.

Red is his favourite colour, at least, it has been since he discovered the jewels. The red one is obviously his favourite, he makes it painfully obvious with the amount of rubies he has everywhere; they are more numerous in number than the others, though the emeralds and aquamarines come in a close second, both of them relatively high in number. The topazes and sapphires are less in number, visibly less with how they stand out against Slaine's grey, grey room, and the odd crystalline substances are even fewer than that. Harklight is not quite sure what the crystalline things are – they are white, porous in some places, and Slaine once tried to bite off a chunk from one of them when he was a child.

“I'm glad,” Harklight says, returning the smile with a warm one of his own. “Slaine, are you going out today?” he asks, shifting his gaze to the small skull that adorns one of Slaine's stone slabs; the horrid thing is decorated oddly with gems and coins alike, placed on top and around it, in its eye sockets..

At the very least, Harklight is glad that Slaine seemingly has no worry or care for the creature it once belonged to.

“Mm.. Ljós needs some more fish, so I'm going to get some for them..” Slaine murmurs, turning back around to very gently set the gem down back with the other rubies, smiling fondly at them for a moment. “I should be back, later. Ljós is kind of small, but they eat a lot..” he murmurs, gently pulling at his hair, twirling a few stray strands around his finger, “If they're to live a long time and stay healthy.. then I need to care for them properly.”

“You're doing a very good job caring for the jellyfish, Slaine. They all seem to be fond of you,” Harklight offers, and Slaine smiles again, warmer, ever-so-slightly warmer. “I'll see you later, then, Slaine. Please be back in time for dinner.”

Slaine nods, politely waving, “I'll be sure to come back by dinner.”

Harklight watches him leave, and for a few hours, he feels fine.

For a few hours, he remains in Slaine's room, gazing at his various treasures, taking note of the odd, human ones that lie on a smaller slab in the corner of the room. Slaine had separated these ones because he has no idea what they are, nor their use, and he still has not asked about anything other than the skull and the metal box that he tows around. These look like assorted spoons, spoons that they have no use for down here, with the way things work, but Slaine is rather adept at using forks and knives, something Slaine had learnt as a child upon being introduced to the palace, something that most others outside the palace fail to learn.

For a few hours, he remains fine, at ease, unworried because Slaine always returns, and he returns happy and warm and content, and he is slowly, slowly getting better, and Harklight is glad he seems to be getting back to how he used to be.

 

 

Slaine Troyard is twenty-two when he goes missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the huge delay, but I'm finally finished with all that stuff I had before, including that thing I talked about earlier! ❤ SS should resume as normal.


	22. Chapter 22

“Alright, Slaine,” Inko hums, visibly pleased with herself as she sets down the large piece of parchment before the blond, their names and a few English phrases written down on it in messy charcoal.

The whole time they were getting ready, Slaine had seemed interested enough, but at the same time, he also seemed to have no idea what was going on. Calm had gotten him a glass of water for him to sip on, and he managed to finish eating his breakfast entirely, all the oatmeal and the egg and the fish, and he seems rather content, now. He is calmly sipping on his water, gazing at the parchment with something similar to curiosity in his teal eyes.

“Why did we write phrases in English?” Calm questions again, having voiced his concern before, “He.. can't really understand us, not really.”

“Inaho said before English is more recognisable than Japanese, and you only wrote simple things,” Inko points out, sitting herself down on the bench again, watching as Slaine very gently sets his glass down just inches away from the parchment's top edge, tracing his fingers under the edge of the words and their names.

“ _Inko.. og Calm.. og Nina.. og Inaho..”_ Slaine reads aloud quietly, pausing when he reaches the ' **hello** ' that Nina had written, and frowns somewhat at it. Taking the charcoal, he holds it for a moment, seemingly thinking to himself, before he crosses it out neatly, writing beside it instead ' _halló_ ' in small, neat writing. He continues, that small frown still on his features, and crosses out ' **food** ', ' **goodbye** ', and ' **wood** ' without writing anything beside it, but leaves ' **egg** ' alone. Under ' **egg** ', he writes a few words of his own, ' _sjó_ ', ' _höll_ ', and ' _lítill_ '.

“.. well.. he did what I thought he'd do, at least,” Inko murmurs, gazing at the parchment.

“He's using accents,” Nina points out, “So.. it's definitely not English, but we did already establish that.”

“And it doesn't sound like Spanish, but Inaho said he's probably European..” Calm points out, recalling one of the few languages he knows of with accents. “French?” he tries, and the two girls shake their heads.

“His accent isn't French when he speaks,” Inko says, frowning somewhat, “And if he were Russian, he'd be using a different alphabet, but he's using the normal one.”

“How about German?” Yuki offers, and Slaine raises his head upon hearing her voice again, hers most likely the most unfamiliar one to him. She is still sitting at the table adjacent from the quartet, keeping her distance as Inaho had initially advised, though she does straighten herself and smiles at Slaine, who almost immediately looks away from her, just like before. “The captain speaks German, doesn't she? Does anyone know if German uses accents?”

“The German language only uses the one with the two circles atop the letter, the umlaut,” Nina says, shaking her head, “But now that you mention it, I do think the captain uses the same word Slaine does to say hello. So perhaps it is similar, to some degree.”

Inko holds out her hand after a moment, and Slaine raises his head again, looking just the faintest bit worried. “Can I have the charcoal?” she asks patiently, and Slaine glances at the small piece in his hand when she does, nodding as he hands it to her. She writes down three new names, 'Yuki', 'Tsumugi', and 'Matsuribi'.

Slaine gazes at them for a few moments before shaking his head, seeming at a loss.

“That's Yuki,” Inko says, and she gestures to the other brunette, “Her name is Yuki.”

Slaine manages to meet her gaze this time, though he does look away after a few more moments of prolonged eye-contact, looking to Inko, instead. “ _Yuki?”_ he murmurs, “ _Nafn hennar.. er Yuki..?”_

Inko nods somewhat, offering the nervous blond another smile, trying to keep him calm, as Inaho had advised. “Yuki, right. What's the English word for 'sister'? He probably won't understand honourifics,” she asks, glancing toward Nina and Calm.

“It's ' **sister** ',” Nina offers, and Slaine blinks, shifting his attention to her.

“ _Systir?”_ Slaine says, almost repeating the word after her; the way he says it is different, again, slightly off from English, but close. “ _Sem? Sem systir?”_

“Inaho's **sister** ,” Inko says immediately, though she is not sure if that is what he had asked. Still, it would be best to get that out of the way and have him understand.

Slaine's eyes widen in what seems to be surprise, and he gathers enough courage to look at her again, knuckles lightly digging into the pillow upon his lap. “ _Inaho's.. systir..?”_ he repeats, and he gains a sudden curious look in his eyes, wary, still, but visibly _curious_. “ _Nafn.. þitt er.. Yuki.. Inaho og Yuki..”_ He trails off after a moment, staring quietly at the young woman sitting across from him, a mix of confusion now apparent on his features, along with the still present curiosity. He looks away from her only when she smiles at him again, looking shy, and he lightly chews on his lip.

Calm clears his throat quietly and hides another smirk behind his hand, “So.. are we just going to ignore the fact that he seems _more_ interested in things regarding Inaho, than things that..–”

“ _Inko?”_ Slaine interrupts, and when they look at him, he tenses up, blue-green eyes widening once he sees just how easy it was for him to get their attention. He shifts, and hugs the pillow to his chest again with one hand, fingers gently digging into it. “ _Ég..”_ He trails off again, continuing to chew on his bottom lip, and points to the charcoal, murmuring, “ _Get ég.. fengið að steinn..?”_

“Oh, the charcoal?” Inko says, holding the dusty piece of chalk up.

Slaine nods and tries to lean forward, though his movement is restricted by the table and the fact that he is in a wheelchair. He smiles gratefully when Inko hands him the charcoal, and he gives his attention back to the parchment, seemingly having no interest in learning the other two names. He starts to scribble something down on the paper, not words this time – he seems to be drawing – and..

“Oh, wow.. he.. draws rather well. And.. his penmanship is also neat.. perhaps he enjoys this sort of stuff?”

“Well, seeing as he's.. you know.. He may not have much to do at home?”

“He's better than Inaho, at any rate. Inaho's drawings are.. bad..”

“At least Nao _tries_. It isn't his fault. He's the best cook, anyway.”

“A shame he's only on cooking duty once a week,” Inko points out, “Maybe he'll cook something for us in Magadan.”

“I think we'll be staying at an inn,” Nina says, shaking her head, “So we.. – Oh, he's writing something.”

“.. he drew a fish,” Calm says, leaning over the table, “Is he labeling it for us?”

Slaine lifts his head after a few moments and pushes the parchment forward, the thin paper crinkling, and he tenses up at the sound, just for a second, seeming taken off-guard. He continues to push it forward for them to see, and leans back in his chair once it is an acceptable range, smiling somewhat.

The fish on the parchment is surprisingly well detailed, adorned with fins and scales and all, despite Slaine having only used charcoal to draw it. It _looks_ like a fish, and not in the way that it just resembles one, but its shape is accurate, rather than most people simply drawing an oval and a triangle, and it looks as if it could be in some book about animal studies.

“ _Fiskur_ ,” Inko reads aloud, and Slaine nods when she looks to him. “That's the word Inaho used before. So he _is_ trying to communicate with us.”

Slaine reaches forward again to pull his cup toward him, sipping from it once again. He seems more at ease than he had, before, less nervous and wary, and seems content in their presence, even without Inaho with him. The water in the glass wavers as he sips from it, unsteady, but he takes his time, patiently waiting for the others to continue.

“That means fish, doesn't it?” Nina asks curiously, tracing her finger along the edge of the paper, not wanting to sully the charcoal or her own fingers with the dust. “Should we draw something and have him label it?”

“Sure. He seems to really like the ocean.. so stick with nautical things?” Inko agrees, nodding somewhat. “Draw him a boat, Calm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, Slaine says;  
> "Inko and Calm and Nina and Inaho."  
> "Her name is Yuki?"  
> "Sister? Whose sister?"  
> "Inaho's sister? Your.. name is Yuki. Inaho and Yuki."  
> "I.. Can I get that rock?"
> 
> he wrote;  
> 'sea', 'palace' and 'little'


	23. Chapter 23

“.. continue to monitor him for another week in Magadan, and perhaps he'll be able to point out where he lives, or if he recognises something,” Magbaredge says, and Inaho follows quietly after her and the first mate, still not quite sure how this is all going to work out.

By some miracle, Inaho will find a way to get Slaine back to his _proper_ home without tipping off the townspeople as well as the crew; perhaps he will find some way to make it seem as if Slaine had found his family.. At least he has an additional week to figure things out, and in Magadan, there will be no fear of pirates trying to kidnap the unknowing blond, meaning they can take their time looking.

Their boots thud low in the halls, heavy on the floorboards, echoey again, their footsteps are almost always echoey unless they are back at home, with heavy traffic circulating the ship. Inaho glances back up at the captain again, and then looks to Mizusaki's back, wondering how Slaine will react to the both of them. Ideally, it would be amazing if he took to them as he took to Yuki – quietly, with no fear, though Magbaredge does give off a more authoritative aura.. Slaine will probably pick up on that, judging by how _sensitive_ he seems to be.

“Kaizuka, how was he when you left?”

Inaho thinks about the question, trying to discern whether or not Slaine had actually been fine. “I.. believe he was alright. He was initially unnerved upon realising I was going to leave him behind, but I think I managed to calm him down before I left,” he explains quietly, and she only hums at that, seemingly taking the response into consideration. Not carrying Slaine or pushing him around, it is obvious just how much lighter he is without him.

Slaine is far heavier than he looks. The nickname he had given Inaho makes it clear he has some understanding of size, even comparing himself to the crew.

Even if he _were_ human, though.. Slaine would probably still be relatively average, if Inaho had to guess. Slaine should be no more than two years apart from his own age, whether it be older or younger, and it is hard to guess which he may be given how he acts. Basing his age simply off of his personality is not that accurate a mark, when it seems as if his anxiety and nerves seem to be debilitating enough to hinder him from acting normally. From what Inaho has seen thus far, it _seems_ as if Slaine is friendly, sweet, kind, and initially shy, but quick to warm once he has become comfortable.

If he were human.. perhaps he would be less anxious? Without knowing the cause, or what his stressor is, outside of interacting with wildly new things.. Inaho cannot say.

 _At least he’ll blend in with everyone rather well,_ Inaho tells himself, the thought relieving.

Magadan is a port town, full of sailors and merchants, most of whom are similar in appearance to Slaine. How Slaine reacts to a whole town full of people, however.. It seems as if he is doing well with the crew, but this is a controlled space with few variables. A town full of humans is an entirely different scenario.

Magadan has children and adults alike, and is a town filled with shouting and screaming and laughter.

Slaine.. May not react well to the sound. At all. It seems as if he likes Yuki, and seems fine with Nina, after they had fixed his initial image of her, but..

 _But how he reacts.._ Inaho wonders again, stopping in place for a moment, _.. I suppose we'll have to wait and see how he is when we dock. If he panics, then.. Hopefully Nina and Calm can keep him distracted._

“Kaizuka.”

Inaho lifts his head, and comes to an eventual stop when he realises Magbaredge is standing before the door leading to the cantina. He can hear voices, faintly, and they still seem to be speaking in a low tone for Slaine, which comes as a relief. Perhaps they had even managed to introduce him to Matsuribi and Tsumugi; that would be amazing, given they had done it without Inaho's presence.

Glancing down at Inaho before gesturing to the door, Magbaredge takes a few steps away from it, standing closer to Mizusaki. “It'd be best if you went in first to check on his condition,” she says, taking into consideration what Inaho had mentioned before, about how nervous Slaine seems to be even _with_ him in the room, “We'll follow after a few moments.”

Inaho nods once, slowly pulling the door open, trying not to make any noise; it works, almost, and he probably would have gone unnoticed had it not been for the way the door's deadbolt sounds whenever it is being shut.

Everyone at the table – Yuki, Matsuribi and Tsumugi included – turns at the sound, and Slaine looks almost _relieved_ , relieved, but.. he looks kind of tired. They have rearranged themselves somewhat, though Inaho's spot is still empty; Matsuribi, Tsumugi and Calm are on Slaine's left, and the girls on his right, providing him ample space for himself should he become unnerved once more.

“Hey, Inaho,” Calm hums, beckoning him over.

“ _Inaho?”_ Slaine calls, voice soft. He gently pats the table where Inaho had been sitting, at the corner beside him. “ _Inaho, koma,”_ he calls again when the brunet does not move, and Inaho notices his palms are almost entirely coated with black powder, leaving small smudges on the table.

 _Ah, they.._ Inaho walks over slowly, though does not sit down, and kneels in front of the blond instead, holding his own hands out.

Slaine responds as Inaho thought he would: offering his own hands without complaint, just as he had done before. Remaining quiet as Inaho looks over his palms, he cocks his head, teal eyes curious, warm.

“We wrote some things down for him,” Inko elaborates when Inaho pulls away from the blond, “And he wrote things down, too, and drew some pictures.”

_Oh._

Inaho tries to remain passive at that, unsure whether or not that is a good thing; he gazes between Slaine and the parchment on the table, slowly picking it up after a few moments and looking it over. The parchment is covered in scribbles and words, some of which he recognises, and some he guesses is Slaine's doing; Slaine's handwriting is surprisingly neat, and he seems to write on the smaller side, his handwriting taking up little space.

“He draws surprisingly well,” Nina offers, humming softly, “He drew that fish, the chest, and the detailed coin in the corner. And he labeled them, too.”

Inaho agrees; Slaine's drawings _are_ surprisingly well done, and they look better than the castle and the odd object he had drawn before; perhaps he merely finds more familiar things easier to illustrate. The fish is labeled ' _fiskur_ ', the chest ' _kista_ ', and the coin ' _diskur_ '.

There is a boat hastily drawn, labeled ' _skip_ ', a tiny, messy window, ' _glugga_ ', and a door, _'dyr_ '.

“And this still isn't English?” he asks, glad that Slaine had not done anything _odd_ while he was away; this could have turned rather complicated had anyone tried unfamiliar objects.

“Nope. But it's kinda close. He labeled the coin so that it almost sounds like ' **disc** ', and he left the English word for 'egg' alone. ' _Skip_ ' does kind of _sound_ like ' **ship** ', but.. Everything else, we dunno know what it is,” Calm answers, watching as Inaho sets the parchment back down in front of Slaine, who remains quiet, still.

“Yuki pointed out that the captain speaks German,” Inko says, pointing to the words with small decorations over some of their letters, “Slaine uses accents when he writes some words, which German also uses, but he uses more than the German language does.”

 _Interesting,_ Inaho notes, nodding somewhat. The use of accents does narrow it down, even if they are not quite sure what area he is from. It is getting more and more apparent that Slaine speaks a _human_ language, albeit a rather rare one. At least it means that the others of his kind must have some sort of human contact, assuming they also speak a human language, since they must communicate with one another.

“ _Inaho..?”_ Slaine calls again, gently pulling on Inaho's sleeve.

Glancing down at the blond, Inaho finds that the pillow on his lap is covered in small, charcoal dusted fingerprints; he will have to be sure to wash it later, so that Slaine does not get charcoal all over his face when sleeping. “Yes, Slaine?” he responds after a moment, patient.

“ _Inaho, sitja,”_ Slaine says, and he gently pats the table again. More charcoal prints coat the table as he pats it, though he seems relatively unaware of that. Waiting patiently for Inaho to sit down, he smiles when the other finally does. “ _Inaho, ertu svangur? Viltu mat? Fiskur?”_ he asks, and he sounds curious again, not using his quiet voice any longer.

“.. fish? You.. want more fish?” Inaho questions, raising an eyebrow; Slaine had _just_ eaten, about forty-five minutes ago.

Slaine leans over and points to where Tsumugi and Matsuribi were standing, “ _Matur? Fiskur? Fyrir þig?”_

“Oh,” Inko hums, “When they started to set aside breakfast for you, he noticed, and he kept asking something and saying your name..”

Inaho blinks, resting his gaze on the blond. _Did he.. remember that I missed dinner, last night? Because he put me to sleep?_ he wonders, feeling almost pleased by the fact; Slaine pays attention to every little detail it would seem, though that most likely stems from the fact that everything is still unfamiliar and scary. “Thank you, Slaine,” he murmurs, and he earns a tiny smile. “.. how was he, with Tsumugi and Matsuribi?” he asks, switching his gaze to the duo sitting across from him, “Did he react well to you?”

Matsuribi shrugs somewhat, smiling sheepishly, “He, uh.. didn't wanna touch us, for some reason. Even when Yutaro and I washed our hands. But he wasn't mean about it, he just kind of.. waved, and introduced himself.” He rests his hands in front of him, stretching, and glances over at their quiet guest, offering him a small smile.

Slaine's gaze slips, and he focuses instead on the pillow on his lap.

“He got shy, again, is what it had seemed like.”

 _Odd,_ Inaho thinks to himself, _Why just them? Because they were in the kitchen, out of sight? Because they were messing with food?_ “Slaine?” he tries, and the blond only nods a few times in response, though he remains quiet, gaze still on his pillow. _Still calm, at least. Hopefully he'll remain that way._ “The captain wants to meet him, and she has Mizusaki with her. They're outside,” he explains, lowering his tone again, “I don't believe he'll react _badly_ , but..”

“.. the cap'n.. does give off an intimidating feeling, yeah,” Calm mumbles, starting to straighten himself subconsciously, the thought of the captain in the room already putting him on edge. “Do you think he'll notice?” he asks, leaning forward to glance at the other blond; Tsumugi and Matsuribi shift beside him, looking between each other.

“I'll get my food when she's gone. It wouldn't be good if he panicked and I was busy doing something else. Though, he seems rather calm, at the..–”

“Kaizuka junior?”

* * *

 

Slaine raises his head at the slightly unfamiliar voice, turning to find an unfamiliar woman at the doorway.

The tone is almost recognisable; perhaps she is the woman who had been talking a few days ago, when Inaho had found him on that ship. Strong, commanding, and intimidating, just like most adults are..

“Inaho..?” he murmurs, reaching forward again to pull at the brunet's arm, where the soft material is; he had not thought he would be meeting so many of them today, and these few are already enough, for now.. memorising their names and faces will prove to be quite the task if he continues to add more to his head. _Tsumugi and Matsuribi are already hard to pronounce, too.._ he tells himself – it had taken a few tries for him to get their names right, though they had been patient and kind with him. “Inaho, who is that?”

Inaho gazes at him, quiet for a few moments before getting up again, leaning down to meet his eyes. “ _It's okay,”_ he says quietly, and he sounds gentle again, gentle and kind and _odd_ – the gentleness is still _odd._ “ _Alright? Slaine? It's okay,”_ he continues, and he _looks_ calm enough, as if there is nothing to be alarmed by.

Inaho's friends are kind. They are kind, and patient, and gentle, and they make him feel safe, but he had thought that Inaho would come back and eat his breakfast, and then they could perhaps return to the room, where it is quieter and less stimulating. It would be easier to be calmer there, where it would be less difficult to put actual thought into his actions and keep them from realising he is not the same as them. There are only so many things he knows the names of, things he can recognise before they start to deem him 'odd' for not knowing what may be basic things in this world.

“ _Slaine?”_ Inaho calls again, and Slaine raises his head to meet his dark, dark eyes again, having looked away from him, distracted by his own thoughts.

Inaho is nice. This odd being is nice, and quiet, and gentle, and Slaine has already decided to trust him, so..

.. so Inaho must be doing all of this for a _reason_ , despite that reason not quite being apparent, despite the reason not going to be apparent any time soon, with their inability to truly understand each other.

Slaine breathes out softly, and manages a small smile, nodding a few times. “Okay,” he says softly, relaxing his grip on the sea foam on his lap. Inaho returns the nod with a slow one of his own, and straightens himself out, moving beside him to free up the space in front of him.

“ _He.. calmed down,”_ Inko says, and there is surprise in her tone, genuine surprise.

“ _I can't believe that worked,”_ Calm murmurs, and Slaine hears a slight edge in his voice, an unknown edge, though it is not malicious, “ _He really does seem to trust you, Inaho.”_

“ _Nao's been taking good care of him. Of course he trusts him. They even sleep in the same bed..–”_

“ _Anyway,”_ Inaho says, and he softly clears his throat, sounding.. almost annoyed? “ _That isn't what matters, right now.”_

Slaine gazes up at him, the emotion taking him by surprise.

Inaho does not quite meet his eyes; it seems whatever Yuki had said has upset him? Had Yuki said something odd?

Slaine's gaze follows the brunet for a few more moments before he looks back to the doorway, and he realises there are _two_ of them there, two women who appear older than Yuki does. They are covered in slightly more.. decorative coverings than Inaho in the others are, and they seem more.. formal? Important? Perhaps they are in charge. The taller one, with the lighter hair gives off a more.. authoritative feeling. They.. give off a similar air like those in the palace do, the adults who roam around.. However, these beings seem less dangerous. Still threatening and intimidating, but..

 _They won't hurt me,_ Slaine tells himself, gaze flickering back to Inaho, _They aren't like the other ones._ He nods again, and rests his gaze on the brunette, greeting softly, “Hello..” He offers her a small, polite wave.

Raising an eyebrow, the brunette starts to move toward him, and she sounds kind of similar to Inaho when he moves, low, thudding, heavy against the floorboards..

Slaine glances downward, and he realises that she has something covering.. the _things_ that these beings move around on, and they look kind of like Inaho's, except hers are darker and less worn. _Is that why they make sound when they move?_ he wonders, glancing down at his own bottom half, _I don't think those would work with my tail.. They wouldn't fit.._

“ _.. hello,”_ the woman returns, stopping just a few feet in front of him.

Slaine waves again, remaining quiet.

“ _Introduce yourself, captain,”_ Inaho says, and Slaine feels a hand on the back of his chair, “ _He'll react if you hold your hand out.. probably.”_

The woman holds her hand out after a moment, saying, “ _Darzana Magbaredge.”_

Slaine blinks. _Is.. is that her name? It's.. different, than theirs,_ he realises, _It sounds more foreign._ He remains still before her, and Calm makes a soft sound.

“ _He doesn't want to touch her, either?”_

“ _Why?”_

“ _Slaine?”_ Inaho calls quietly, and Slaine glances up at him, cocking his head. “ _You.. don't want to introduce yourself to the captain?”_ he asks – at least, it sounds like another question, again – and he gestures to the brunette's outstretched hand.

Shaking his head, Slaine glances between the two of them. “I.. don't want to..” he murmurs, trailing off. Even if Inaho wants him to, he does not want to touch any of them without being at least a little sure if they are clean or not. Inaho’s friends, at least, are trustworthy considering they must be close to him.. But the two from before, and this one, they do not seem to be that close, and they give off a different kind of feeling.

Considering this world is painfully different from his own, taking unnecessary risks with his health and these beings seems to be.. a really bad idea. There could be all manner of things that may prove harmful, such as that hot, horrid tasting orange liquid from before – though he admits that had been his own fault.

“ _Odd,”_ Inaho says, and he sounds mildly.. amused, Slaine thinks? Amused and curious, but his dark, dark eyes are still hard to read when Slaine raises his head to look up at him. The brunet remains stoic beside him, and only glances down at him for a few moments, silent, before looking back toward the newer women, and he looks _amused_ again, as if the current situation is in no way worrying.

“ _Sorry, captain,”_ Yuki says, and she sounds hurried, as if Inaho had said something _wrong_ , and she has to amend it.

Slaine remains quiet, glancing back at the older woman, watching as she slowly pulls her outstretched and away from him; she seems.. patient, still, at ease and does not seem particularly upset over his reaction toward her. _Good,_ he thinks to himself, breathing a sigh of relief, _I don't want to upset anyone while I'm still staying here.._ “Inaho..?” he calls again, tone soft, low, and he points to the wooden.. slab-like _thing_ where Tsumugi and Matsuribi had been, “Inaho, are you going to eat your food..? Your fish..?”

Because if they are in any way alike, then these beings must need food on a regular basis as well, and Inaho had not eaten a third meal, last night.. It would not bode well if the being supposedly in charge of his care were to suddenly fall ill or grow weak.

“ _He really wants you to eat.”_

“ _You haven't eaten breakfast?”_ the woman asks, and her tone is almost surprised, surprised by whatever Calm had said. Shifting in her spot, Slaine goes quiet again, listening as the things that she moves around on thud low against the floorboards. The woman beside her with the dark, dark hair is still silent, and she gives off a much calmer aura than the brunette; Slaine assumes she is here to perhaps.. mediate, if need be?

Tearing his gaze away after a few moments, he tries not to stare too much, knowing that unwarranted staring may cause an issue that Inaho may have to explain at a later time. Instead, he looks back up at Inaho, who is gazing at the wooden slab, seemingly having understood him. “Inaho?” he tries again, and the brunet only nods.

“ _Fiskur,”_ he murmurs, and he nods again.

Slaine smiles somewhat, glad that he had understood. So long as there is a basic understanding between them, this should all work out rather well. _And I'll be able to get home and tell Harklight about these beings.._ he tells himself again, _He should know, so he can inform the others.. and we can all avoid this happening ever again.._

This whole situation is.. taxing. The others back at the palace would have definitely handled this in a much more.. extravagant way; they would have been found out and deemed as irregular within mere moments.

Inaho crosses in front of him, between him and the brunette woman, though he stops short again, gesturing to her, “ _This is Magbaredge, Slaine. Captain Magbaredge.”_

Slaine blinks. _So.. that_ was _her name?_ he realises, glancing back up at her. “.. Slaine,” he says after a moment, gesturing to himself, “I'm.. Slaine. Troyard. It's.. nice to meet you, Mag.. Magbaredge..”

The name comes off _odd_ , sounds _odd_ , but it rolls off his tongue easier than the previous names had. If.. this world and his own are like, then.. perhaps these beings could be from various, different regions as well? And.. perhaps that is why their languages are different? Why they all look vastly different from one another?

“ _.. ah. It's nice to meet you, Slaine,”_ Magbaredge says, managing a small nod.

Slaine gazes up at her, remaining quiet for a few more moments, and leans back again in his chair, gently pressing his palms against the sea foam still on his lap, breathing out softly again. _These.. beings aren't so bad.._ he tells himself, _But I wish I hadn't met so many of them in one day.. remembering all of them is.._

“ _He seems calmer.”_

“ _Mm. This.. must be stressful for him, meeting so many people. It must be even more stressful, not being able to understand us.”_

Inaho makes a soft sound at that comment, seeming caught off-guard.

When Slaine raises his head to look at him, he looks the faintest bit _worried_ , or perhaps concerned.. The brunet only shakes his head when their eyes meet, and he places a finger at his lips. _Stay.. quiet?_ he wonders, about to mimic him when he suddenly turns and starts to cross back over to the wooden slab, _Is he going to eat, now? When he finishes, perhaps we can return to his room.._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, Slaine says;  
> "Inaho, come [over here]."  
> "Sit."  
> "Are you hungry? Do you want food? Fish?"  
> "Food? Fish? For you?"


	24. Chapter 24

“So, erm.. what’re we going to do until tonight?” Nina asks quietly, leaning back on the bench to gaze at the captain, who seems to be rather pleased now that Slaine has managed to introduce himself to her; for a moment, it had seemed as if things were going to go awry. Thankfully, Slaine seems rather calm, now, calm after Inaho had managed to.. kind of speak with him.

“Until Magadan, you mean? You're to perform your normal duties and adhere to normal schedules until the town is in sight, and then the officers will round the pirates back up. Kaizuka junior has informed me that you and Calm are going to be keeping our guest company?” Magbaredge takes a few steps away from the blond, and Mizusaki follows suit; she is now addressing the crew in a formal, authoritative manner.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Yes, cap'n.”

“Tsumugi and Matsuribi will be joining you, as well. The five of you will be heading out in a rowboat first, to find suitable housing for the rest of us. Nina, you will be in charge of them.”

“Yes, captain,” Nina says, nodding a few times, “I'll be sure to take good care of Slaine and find us an inn.”

At that, Slaine glances at her, and she offers him a warm smile, one that has him looking away, cheeks flushing pink, shy again. His charcoal covered palms still rest against the pillow, coating the pillow with black dust, flecks here and there, small fingerprints..

Resting her cheek against her palm, Yuki only sighs quietly, practically beaming as she gazes at the shy blond. “He's adorable,” she insists, “It's a shame we'll have to return him. We haven't had a new crew member in years.”

Inaho shakes his head as he reaches over the counter to pick up a tray with his portion of breakfast; two eggs, a half piece of fish, and a small bowl of oatmeal, slightly different than Slaine's and everyone else's simply because the crew has already come to realise what he prefers eating; that, and a few people have insisted he needs more protein because he is rather small. “He has a family, Yuki-nee,” he points out, carefully holding his tray as he walks back toward the table, “Someone must be missing him.”

And he means it. If there is one of whatever Slaine is, then there _has_ to be more, hidden under the sea, all with their own families and communities. And even if there are only a few of them, there has to be _someone_ that is missing Slaine's presence; _someone_ has to be concerned about him.

“I don't think Troyard would do very well as a crew member, either,” Magbaredge says simply, shaking her head, “Our guest is better off with his family, where he will be cared for properly.”

Yuki's smile slips at that. “Right,” she says simply, nodding, “Having him on ship for half a year may not do well for his health..”

“When he's back home, I'm sure he'll feel much better,” Inaho says simply.

For a few moments, it occurs to him to wonder if Slaine can last without water.. he shows no signs of shriveling up as fish do, and the scales coating his skin still appear relatively healthy.. Thankfully, with the shirt covering him, it minimizes the chance of the others discovering the.. _oddities_ covering his skin. The scales on his face and hands are still visible, but unless one looks closely, there is little-to-no chance of the discovery; his hair hides his oddly shaped ears, and Slaine seems to understand still that the blanket is necessary to hide his tail.

“ _Inaho, sitja,”_ Slaine says, leaning forward again to pat the table, leaving more charcoal prints against the wood.

“I will,” Inaho responds, managing a small nod as he sets the tray down, and Slaine pulls away again, gently hugging the pillow to his chest. Glancing at the blond, he finds that Slaine has that tired look on his face again, the same one from before; he is calm still, calm and relaxed, but..

Slaine is looking at the captain and Mizusaki, gaze flickering between the two of them.

“Mizusaki, you haven't introduced yourself,” Inaho points out, starting to slice up his eggs.

“Ah, he's right. You should introduce yourself before we leave,” Magbaredge says with a slight nod, “If he's acquainted with all of us, Troyard should feel considerably more comfortable in our presence. Especially if Kaizuka junior is not always present to keep him company.”

“.. of course, captain,” Mizusaki says, hesitantly stepping forward. “I'm.. Mizusaki. It's.. a pleasure to meet you.”

Slaine gazes at her for a moment, blinking the tiredness out of his eyes. “ _Mizu.. saki?”_ he repeats, slowly, and he cocks his head.

Mizusaki nods, bowing her head somewhat, “It's nice to meet you, Troyard.”

Inaho watches as Slaine blinks at that, face flushing the slightest bit red. _He's embarrassed,_ he realises, gazing at the other, watching as he slowly looks away from her and gently kneads his pillow.

That tired look in his eyes appears again, features slowly slipping as he dozes off.

 _Why is he so tired?_ Inaho wonders. Slaine must have fallen asleep at some point, as he had woken up this morning, seeming relatively fine. “Is that all, captain?” he asks, glancing up at her, “You just wanted to meet him, correct? After I finish eating, I'll be bringing him back to my quarters so he can rest.”

“Correct. That's all,” Magbaredge says simply, nodding. “Save Kaizuka junior, you're all dismissed.”

 

 

While Inaho was eating, Slaine had attempted to initiate conversation – he fumbled with words for a few moments, ended up trailing off in what had seemed to be a daze, and then eventually fell asleep in his chair, the back of his head pressed up against the wheelchair's frame. The pillow rests loosely in Slaine's arms, still covered in messy, incomplete charcoal prints, and it slowly slips as Inaho walks them back to his room.

Before he had left the cantina, he had been sure to clean up the mess they had made – he folded up the paper and took it for himself, telling the others that perhaps Slaine would want to draw or add on more to it at a later time. Inko had taken the charcoal with her, and had cleaned all of Slaine's fingerprints off of the table, glad that the charcoal is not difficult to get off. He had even managed to clean Slaine's hands without waking him, though he is slightly worried that he had done so so easily.

Slaine must be _exhausted_ , perhaps overly stimulated from today; it would seem that meeting and interacting with so many strangers is hard on him, but.. he had done it, albeit it may have been reluctant and proven to be a more mentally taxing task than Inaho had originally anticipated. It.. makes Inaho wonder about Slaine's home environment, whether or not he truly does have a family.

Surely someone noticed his absence, surely _someone_ must be anticipating his return.

Inaho stops walking for a moment, coming to a slow halt as he glances downward.

 _.. surely,_ **someone's** _missing him, aren't they?_

* * *

 

Allowing his eyes to slowly flutter open against the now somewhat familiar dim glow, Slaine's vision adjusts to the swaying cage up above him, _still_ giving off that dim glow; it has become slightly less harder to stare, and he realises that it does not hurt his eyes as much as it did before. A lingering feeling of drowsiness hangs over him as he sits up, hand pressed against the soft, too warm material that makes up – _covers? it moves.._ – Inaho's bed, and his nails lightly dig into the material as his throat tightens. Coughing quietly into his hand, Slaine narrows his eyes, and he realises he feels parched.

Voices sound outside the door, soft and low and barely audible with the wooden planks separating them, barely audible with his quiet coughs filling the room; one of them sounds kind of like that man, that man who Inaho had brought him to before, the man with the odd things on his face, in front of his eyes. The other voice is unfamiliar, dangerously unfamiliar, and it sounds masculine as well.

 _More adults,_ he realises, continuing to cough quietly into his hand, _Water. I need more water._ Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the bed for a few moments before lowering himself completely, lying on his stomach.

Sleepy.

Immense drowsiness hangs over him, and now he is thirsty, as well; perhaps this is a side-effect to the lack of water he has not been receiving, or perhaps this is his body's way of informing him that certain processes should not be done in the overworld, that he is not meant to be here for an extended period of time. His coughs slowly subside, slowly, and he lets his eyes slip back shut, burying his cheek against the soft, too warm material that makes up Inaho's bed.

“ _What was that? I thought the kids were on duty today..”_

“ _I believe Kaizuka junior has been leaving our guest in his room. Magbaredge gave him permission to watch over him, and given his current circumstances.. he can't be expected to work for us. He might need some water, though, it sounded like he was coughing.”_

Even the voices – the masculine, vaguely unfamiliar voices – do not sound as threatening as they normally do, and Slaine cannot muster the strength to worry about them, not when he is safe in this little room, in _Inaho's_ room, a being who has proved to be rather effective and trustworthy, so far. Inaho seems to be doing his best to ensure his safety and well-being, and for that, he is grateful.

“ _So.. then we should probably get him so–..”_

“ _Kaizuka junior keeps his door locked, unfortunately. He keeps the key on a bracelet on his wrist.”_

Slaine hears a sigh, then, a _deep_ sigh, as if one of them is perhaps annoyed or upset – perhaps the conversation has gone awry? But from his initial, small impression of this group, he had thought they would all be rather cordial and better behaved, better than the others back at the palace, at least..

Even with all the space at the palace, the others would argue and lecture over politics and various decisions regarding their future, about the state of their kingdom.. Even though most nobles are separated from one another, they would always somehow find a way to converge and argue.

When he returns, he will be sure to stay away from all of that once more; none of those topics concern him, after all, and he would rather have as little to do with things like that as possible. Instead, Harklight can keep him busy with explanations on all of his treasures he keeps in his room, and they can talk about other topics – such as the jellyfish, and how Slaine can keep each and every one of them as his own, along with Ljós.

“ _We should probably notify Kaizuka junior, since we won't be getting into the room.”_

“ _.. yeah, sure, alright. But he really shouldn't keep his door locked.”_

Slaine sighs quietly as the voices fade away, presumably down the hall. Relaxing further now that they are gone, he allows himself to press his cheek further against the unknown soft material, listening to the faint, faint sounds of it mingling with the scales along his skin. He stretches, and a yawn escapes him – his fingertips can almost touch the wood just in front of him, though he stops short, instead grasping a handful of the bundled material in his fist.

Inaho had been kind enough to remove the material wrapped around his waist and tail – he had presumably done so as Slaine was asleep, earlier – but had kept on the covering on his torso.

Slaine does not mind. This material is thinner, and it reminds him of the different kinds of seaweed scattered about the ocean – since this is thinner than the other material, it makes him feel significantly less warmer, and he assumes that maybe it was just harder to take off, given it had taken Inaho to actually get it on him. The little circular things on the front of the material dig into his chest, gently, not enough to bother, and his grip relaxes on the bundled material as drowsiness steals him away once more.


	25. Chapter 25

Gazing at the slumbering blond beside him, Inaho is unable to find any sign that Slaine had been particularly disturbed a few moments ago. Though the other is now lying on his stomach instead of his side, like Inaho had left him, that is no cause for alarm. Inaho has yet to see him moving around, but Slaine _must_ be doing it with relative ease, since he seems to be doing it in an attempt to remain comfortable. It is hard to tell if Slaine is used to this, yet – used to human commodities, and making the best of his situation.

According to Yagarai and Marito, Slaine had been coughing for a while, before eventually going quiet. Yagarai suggested water, to soothe his throat and perhaps prevent another small episode of coughs from happening, unsure if Slaine is getting ill or if he was just thirsty. Marito had pointed out that Inaho should probably not keep his door locked, though the younger officer was quick to inform that he _always_ keeps the door locked, to prevent people – namely Yuki – from getting in and rummaging through his personal artifacts, and accusing him of hiding things when they find sweets or jewelry.

 

The last part went unmentioned.

 

Though Inaho did not find the issue particularly worrying, he had agreed without complaint to bring Slaine some water – the crew seems to think him frail, given his 'condition', and Inaho is just glad they had not attempted to unlock the door themselves. He had left Slaine asleep, without the blanket wrapped around his tail, unsure if Slaine would find it comfortable to sleep with it on.

If they had managed to get the door open..

 _They didn't,_ he tells himself as he remains staring at the sleeping blond, pushing the thought away. Slaine's secret is still a secret, and will remain so until either Slaine himself makes that apparent, or some kind of accident happens. _Or never,_ he thinks, _Slaine may be able to return peacefully without any issue, if we can manage it._

Hesitantly pressing a hand to Slaine's back to make sure the blond is still breathing, Inaho finds himself taken aback when he feels something akin to the viscosity of some creams he has used – except he knows for a fact that Slaine should have nothing of the sort on him, nor would he have found any in this room. The shirt feels sort of damp against his palm, oddly cool, even with Slaine's lowered temperature. He starts to gently pull at the shirt, stopping when he sees that it is almost sticking to Slaine, not wanting to harm him or wake him up.

Instead, he leans forward and gently pulls at the bunched up sleeve at Slaine's wrist, slowly, carefully peeling it back until he sees that Slaine's skin is oddly shiny. _This.. isn't sweat,_ he realises, pressing a finger to Slaine's skin. The stuff coating his skin is sticky, kind of like a clear sort of glue, and –

Slaine stirs at the disturbance, pulling his arms away, a quiet whine escaping his lips as he turns his head. “ _Inaho..?”_ he mumbles without opening his eyes, throwing an arm over his face – presumably to shield his eyes from the lamp up above. “ _Inaho, halló..”_ he murmurs, and Inaho can see something odd near his jaw and chin.

They are not scales; these oddities are coloured almost pinkish, the same shade that Slaine's face had been when it had flushed with embarrassment this morning.

“Slaine,” Inaho calls, and the blond responds with a low, drowsy hum, “Slaine, can you look at me?”

At the call of his name again, Slaine adjusts his arm, just enough to gaze up at Inaho and still keep his eyes shielded from the light directly above him. “ _Inaho?”_ he returns, and his voice is laced with heavy, heavy sleep.

Inaho holds up a hand, trying to show he means no harm. “I'm..” he starts to say, stopping as he tries to think of ways to convey the fact that there is no reason for Slaine to be alarmed. “May I?” he tries, allowing his fingertips to graze Slaine's cheek, nails scraping against the pink –

There is barely any time for Inaho to react when Slaine sits up, grabbing his wrist immediately.

Inaho holds his breath.

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” Slaine demands, and his sense of sudden urgency kicks in, replacing that familiar, drowsy feeling from before. Inaho's wrist feels _fragile_ in his grasp, fragile, and his skin is still too, too warm, and there are no scales to protect his veins from Slaine's nails; still, he does not want to _hurt_ the brunet, though there is nothing preventing him from doing so except that quiet voice in his head reminding him of how kind Inaho has been this whole time.

Inaho goes silent before him, something akin to wonder in his eyes.

Awe?

Surprise?

 

_Fear?_

 

Despite being unsure, he thinks awe and wonder would not _normally_ be the look on someone’s face if they were to find themselves in this situation. Inaho is a rare exception; being empty and the only one to know what he truly is makes that look on his face harder to read.

Why had Inaho been trying to touch him there? What had he been intending on doing?

Hair? The top of his head is fine. Hands? Touches like that are meant for comfort.

But there? Too low, too close to his neck?

This is unsolicited, unneeded touching – he is not sure _why_ Inaho would try to touch his face, there is no reason..

Inaho's wrist goes completely limp after a tense moment, and he breathes out softly, staring at Slaine with practically no concern on his features. If anything, that fear in his eyes is concern for Slaine, and not for himself. “ _Slaine,”_ he says, and the way he says Slaine's name causes his heart to drop, “ _It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you.”_

Shame.

Slaine lets Inaho's wrist go without another thought, shame bubbling in his throat. Clasping his hands against his chest, he tries to calm himself down, breathing out shakily.

Inaho has been cordial.

Inaho has been gentle.

Inaho has been exceptionally kind and warm and accommodating – there should be _no_ cause for alarm..

“ _Slaine,”_ Inaho calls again, and there is still that warmth in his voice, that odd, _muted_ warmth now mixed with concern, concern for _Slaine_. “ _Slaine,”_ he tries again, and Slaine shakes his head a few times in response, shame still bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill over in the form of sobs. “ _I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you, again,”_ he continues, and he reaches forward this time, very, _very_ gently unfurling Slaine's hands, smoothing them and looking them over for _something_.

Slaine remains still as the being looks him over, though Inaho's hands still feel _too warm_ against his own, the touches _too light_ , _too gentle_ , and he says nothing when Inaho turns his wrist over, pulling away the material that covers his arms –

_Oh._

Lifting his head upon feeling Inaho's finger pressed against his palm, Slaine winces quietly, the material sticking to his skin _too well_ , kind of like those seaweed and kelp balms he had made to nurse jellyfish stings. There has never been something like this _stuck_ to his skin before; usually, when this happens, it is not at all painful.. Inaho continues to pull it away, slowly, and it is becoming apparent that he is being deliberately careful in an attempt not to cause harm.

It is becoming apparent as to why Inaho had wanted to touch his face.

Slaine pulls his wrist away from Inaho before the other can continue, that little voice in his head reminding him that Inaho has been nothing but kind so far – forcing him to do something like this, forcing him to cause pain is unfair, especially when it is clear that he has no idea what is on Slaine's skin. It is unfair that he had ruined another one of Inaho's belongings, first that sea foam, and then this material.. Soon, he will have to come up with ways to make it up to these kind beings, especially Inaho.

Instead of allowing Inaho to continue, Slaine starts to mess with the wooden round things that hang from the front of the blue material, though he is not quite sure how it works; he recalls Inaho had done something to them so that.. the material stayed put? Was that what he had done? With the way it is now, none of his top half is exposed, save his neck and hands.. but the material covers the more visible, differently coloured scales along his skin, he supposes.

Inaho gently pulls at his hands again after a few moments – and he is still exceedingly gentle, skin still warm – and forces Slaine to press his hands against his tail. There is that patient look again on his features, patient as he pulls away when Slaine glances down to find that his hands are shaking. “ _It's alright,”_ he murmurs, and Slaine does not have it in him to raise his head back up.

So he remains silent as Inaho easily undoes whatever he had done to the wooden round things, presses his hands further against his tail in an attempt to make the panicked feeling go away. Instead, he makes a point to gaze at his tail, to count and gaze at the scales coating it, gaze flickering between the grey and black and purple and white – he recalls Harklight had once said his tail resembled some kind of a pattern, what was the word he had used?

.. ' _sky_ '? Had that been it? Something about a ' _sky_ ' and ' _stars_ '.

Harklight had failed to elaborate, insisting that they would discuss _something_ in further detail when Slaine was older. They never did, now that Slaine thinks about it.

Slaine breathes in softly, remaining quiet and as still as he can manage until Inaho lets go of the round wooden things and the material, allowing them to loosely wave, though it still remains mostly stuck to his skin like that balm. Nails lightly digging into his palm, he tries to keep his thoughts familiar, thinking that perhaps if he focuses on something other than the fact that he had almost hurt the one being that is doing a rather good job of taking care of him –

Once again, Inaho starts to unfurl Slaine's hands – his skin still feels warm, too warm, _gentle_ , and Slaine can only breathe out again, realising that perhaps Inaho is still trying to calm him down, soothe him, in the best way he can given their circumstances.

The inexplicable gentleness still catches Slaine off-guard, the kindness, the warmth – it all seems _odd_ coming from someone with barely any light in his eyes, and he is unused to receiving this much positive attention from a practical stranger.

 _.. it must be odd for him, too,_ he figures, _Having to take care of someone like me.._ Slaine hesitates for a second before slowly pulling his hands out of Inaho's loose grasp, and starts to push away his hair from the back of his neck, wincing softly when stray strands stick to his skin as the material did, and it hurts as they pull, threatening to tear away from his scalp. _I trust him,_ he tells himself, breathing out again, heart in his throat, _I trust Inaho, so.._

* * *

 

Inaho's breath catches when Slaine turns his head, still holding his hair so that the back of his neck is exposed – there is a deep indent along his skin, a rather sizable chunk missing, and it looks as if quite a few scales are missing from the wound. The wound itself is mostly healed, scarred over, but it seems that the scales that had previously kept his neck safe are barely intact, with only a few of the foggy white ovals covering his skin. The skin around the wound is scarred as well, torn looking, as if several sharp somethings had scrapped against it. _Is.. this why he panicked when I tried to touch him?_ he wonders, keeping his hands pressed firmly to the bed, nails lightly digging into the sheets, _He was afraid I'd hurt him? Or he was afraid I'd touch his neck?_

Slaine remains quiet before him, immobile and he is no longer trembling, like he had been before. He allows his hair to fall back down after a few moments and turns his head to face Inaho, and offers him a small, sad smile.

It does not reach his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Inaho says again, though he knows the blond will only understand his tone. _I didn't mean to scare you,_ he thinks, and he allows his hands to relax now that the urge to inspect Slaine for any other wounds has passed.

Though he can take solace in the fact that the wound itself seems to be rather old, which means that the pirates truly did not seem to mishandle him, he is unsure how he feels thinking that Slaine may have been mistreated by his own kind. _Something like that.. may explain why he seems to get nervous around older adults.. and his kind of reserved nature,_ he figures, trying to catch Slaine's eyes. The blond refuses to look at him directly, and he still looks ashamed of what had happened earlier – though now, it is obvious why he had reacted so badly.

_rip.._

Inaho's gaze slips at the sound, and he blinks in surprise upon seeing that Slaine has ripped a good portion of the shirt in half. When Slaine lifts his head, his teal eyes are full of that same look from before, when he had ripped the pillow open: bewilderment and shock.

 _He didn't mean to do that,_ he realises, wondering if this was how Slaine had felt when he ripped the pillow open, _Does he not realise how much force is needed to do that? Or does he just have no awareness of how strong he is?_

Whatever adhesive is coated against Slaine's skin is proving to be quite the issue, and even he does not seem to fully understand what is happening. The shock is quickly disappearing from his features, replaced by visible distress – any more of this, and he may end up a nervous mess once again.

“Slaine,” Inaho calls as he pulls at the other's hands again, forcing him to stop, “It's okay.”

Slaine's eyes are full of worry, though he does not try to pull away, and goes still. “ _Hjálpa?”_ he asks quietly instead, and his voice is still soft, still soft and kind and _innocent_.

 _He still feels bad.._ Inaho realises, glancing over at the glass of water just sitting on the nightstand; it had been meant for consumption, to soothe Slaine's cough, but.. he is no longer coughing, and Inaho can always go and get him some more. _Water softens glue and other materials with adhesive properties,_ he recalls, setting Slaine's hands back down on his lap, leaning backward to pull the glass toward him, its bottom scraping softly against the wood.

The sound causes Slaine to tense up, but he remains quiet, gaze flickering between the glass and Inaho's face.

“.. here,” Inaho murmurs after a moment, tipping the glass over Slaine's shoulder –

Slaine freezes up immediately as the water seeps through the shirt's thin cloth, and Inaho watches as his features slowly flicker to that of confusion as he tries to process what had just happened.

“This should.. loosen up the fabric, so it doesn't hurt, anymore,” Inaho continues, resting the glass against his leg before he reaches forward to gingerly pull at the doused material; it gives way far more easily than it had previously, the water rendering the sticky adhesive manageable. He manages to pull one sleeve off, though it is clear that the shirt will need to be thoroughly rinsed with something like salt or alcohol, so that whatever adhesive remains will dissolve..

Slaine brushes his fingers against his arm when it is free, breathing out softly; it comes out shaky, shaky and full of what seems to be relief. The stuff still appears to be sticking to him despite the water, but given the look on Slaine's face, Inaho thinks it may have just become much less of a problem.

Like this, at least, Inaho can remove the shirt and hide it in his drawer, and look for something to clean the adhesive off of Slaine's skin before it is time to start packing the rowboats for Magadan. And hopefully it will not leave Slaine's skin irritated or reddened; so long as it comes off without a trace, there should not be any problem.. “Other arm, Slaine,” he says softly, gesturing to the other half of the shirt, and Slaine immediately puts his arm down, seeming to understand. “Thank you,” he murmurs, dousing the other shoulder now, leaning more forward to get his back, as well – now, the shirt should not stick to him at all, and then he can go look for some salt, or a rag..

Slaine pulls the other sleeve off easily, and sets the shirt down between them once he has removed it entirely – he gently smooths the damp material, looking apologetic again as his fingers linger where he had ripped it.

“It's alright,” Inaho offers, and Slaine shakes his head a few times, seemingly upset with what he had done. “Slaine,” he calls again, and this time he pulls the shirt away, folding it as best he can in its current state, – the material hangs and sags, and the tear makes it uneven – “It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong.”

Remaining still for a few moments more, the blond eventually gives in, seemingly understanding Inaho's tone once more; he nods a few times before raising his head, another small, sad smile on his lips, _“Takk fyrir, Inaho..”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to Haku, thank you so, so much for helping me with this particular chappy ❤ ❤ ❤  
> -  
> in order, what Slaine says;  
> "Hello."  
> "Help?"  
> "Thank you."


	26. Chapter 26

“ _.. Inaho? Inaho, líta..”_

The bucket in Inaho's grasp nearly slips as he gazes at the blond, momentarily stunned by the thin, pinkish shell covering the near entirety of his top half, now – it is lustrous, mostly smooth, though rigid and rippled in some places. It appears to be almost completely intact, save for a few bits and pieces missing around his shoulder, his waist.. it looks cracked, almost, where pieces are missing. The water inside churns quietly as he tightens his grip, and the other does not seem to acknowledge the sound, solely focused on the back part of his hand, tracing his fingers over a bone in his wrist.

The action seems to lose his attention after a few moments, and he instead turns his hand over, bringing his wrist to just before his eyes as he looks it over.

Inaho hears something _crack_ quietly, and the blond either does not notice or care – he gently runs a nail along his skin, and something cracks again, soft and low in the room, and –

“Oh..” Inaho breathes, watching as a piece of whatever is coating Slaine's skin breaks away and floats down slowly; it seems paper thin, still shiny in the light.. It joins the other tiny pieces scattered on the covers, and it seems that the side stuck to him is a plain, milky white.

Slaine does not raise his head as he continues, focused on removing the pinkish coating, and it continues to quietly crack; the filaments kind of resemble ash in a way, they are big enough to be seen, and they will probably crumble when touched too roughly. “ _.. Inaho, líta?”_ he tries again when Inaho makes no attempt to move, and he raises his head this time, teal eyes full of confusion, “ _Inaho?”_ Though he has calmed down from what had happened fifteen minutes ago, he still has not spoken as much, and he still seems to be averse to making eye contact.

Inaho forces himself to nod as he finally steps away from the doorway, pulling the door shut behind him. _That was foolish. Someone could have passed by and glanced inside,_ he tells himself, listening as the key at his wrist quietly clatters against the bucket's wooden handle.

_click._

Pulling at the knob for further insurance, Inaho takes a few steps away from the door once he has verified that is indeed locked – hopefully no one comes to check on him while he is helping Slaine get cleaned up, and then he can return to work without further delay.. “What are you doing, Slaine?” he asks quietly, setting the bucket down on the floorboards, right beside the end of Slaine's tail, which is currently hovering mere centimetres off the floor, swaying. It, like the tips of Slaine's ears and the scales closest to his skin, is practically translucent; almost see-through, but not quite, the milky white serving as a film, almost.

Slaine holds his wrist out for Inaho to see when the brunet has settled, remaining quiet as Inaho gently brushes his fingertips over the now fragmented coating. Where what little skin shows, pink and red irritated areas dilute what would normally be pale white. With each small turn and flick of his joints, the pink cracks and crumbles, like a crust would – still, that does not make the sound _okay_ , it seems as though it should be painful, but Slaine is unharmed.

Inaho bites his tongue to hide a sigh, realising that the shirt having been stuck to him must be the source of the irritation. This could have been avoided, had be been a bit..

_Wait._

“The.. adhesive coating is gone,” he realises after a few moments, pressing his nail against an intact part of the lustrous pink shell – it cracks, and breaks into tiny pieces again, just like the other parts, and it exposes reddened, but smooth skin, free of that sticky residue from before. _It's all gone,_ he realises, _How did it..?_ It looks vaguely familiar, the coating, and the lustrous shine to it..

Slaine remains silent as Inaho slowly breaks away the shell, remains silent when Inaho very gently runs his finger along his skin, and he still seems relatively calm and docile, much better than he had been before.

 _.. it hardened,_ Inaho thinks to himself, _The adhesive hardened, after exposed to oxygen, like rust, and it formed this pink coating.. It doesn't seem to be harmful, but.. What.. is..?_ Pulling away after a few moments, his gaze flickers downward, toward the bucket full of seawater; it may not prove as effective as he originally intended given the adhesive seems to be gone, but the rag may still help with getting the rest of it off..

Then, Slaine can be properly dressed and ready for Magadan.

Inaho bends over and pulls the rag out of the water – Slaine _immediately_ leans over to see what he is doing upon the sound of water meeting water, and lights up, teal eyes widening when he realises what the contents of the bucket are. Water drips from the rag and continues to meet the water's surface, and then against the sheets, and then Inaho's lap. It leaves tiny water stains where it touches, and Slaine continues to stare.

Reaching out, Slaine brushes his fingertips along the cool rag, and his features start to soften as he presses his palm full against the damp rag. “ _Inaho.. Þú.. ert mjög vingjarnlegur..”_ he says softly, and he sounds _happy_ , looks happy as he gently squeezes out the water with his hand. “ _Vatn.. Sjór. Fyrir mig..”_ he murmurs, raising his gaze just enough to meet Inaho's eyes, “ _Takk fyrir, Inaho.”_

“.. you're welcome,” Inaho offers, allowing Slaine to take the rag away from him.

It leaves his hands feeling cold, thankfully not _icy_ like the contents had been when he initially got it – the crew had been intuitive enough to attach a rope to the bucket instead of sending someone down themselves to fetch the water. No one had wanted to volunteer themselves in the bristling cold outside, and the icy ocean water they are currently sailing through. Navigating the ship to Magadan's dock will be impossible – hence the use of the rowboats, but..

Handling the pirates may prove difficult in such a tight space.

Slaine gently rubs the rag against his cheek, presumably testing its effectiveness, and –

“Oh..”

They both tense up for a few moments when a few rougher parts of the pink coating come off, and the pieces are thicker, more built up, and shaped kind of like a pebble.. Inaho picks one piece up carefully, trying not to crush the fragile thing in his grasp, and he holds it up so that it catches the light: like the rest of the coating, it is a light, light pink colour, and is lustrous, and its surface is beaded, somewhat, rippled, and it looks kind of like..

“.. like a pearl,” he says, squeezing it. It cracks, softly in between his fingers, and then breaks and crumbles into smaller shards and pieces; like the filaments, the other side is milky white in colour.

Like a pearl.

It resembles the odd, misshapen pearls he has seen in jewelry shops, though those are often an off white sort of creme colour, or even a light, light gold. These look _just_ like those ones, misshapen and small, although much, much weaker than he had anticipated. Pearls are supposed to be solid all throughout, strong..

The weak structure _could_ be contributed to the fact that it is a mere coating of some kind, and not actually formed inside an oyster's mouth, where pearls have a better chance of thickening and rounding out some.

Slaine returns to rubbing the rag against his cheek, this time not stopping in surprise upon hearing the shell starting to crack and crumble and break away from his skin. It still leaves his skin flushed the lightest of pinks, but significantly less irritated than the more visible reds and pinks along his arm and wrist. It does not seem as if the pearl-like objects bother him much, if at all, and a few more chunks fall to his lap and the bed sheets. From the way the coating looks on his cheek, it seems as if he may have been using his arm as a pillow?

Inaho picks up a few more of the pebble-like _things_ and holds them out to the light, as well – they are similar in structure and shape, but not quite identical. The ripples and beads vary, but the colour and general shape is the same. He hides a few of the shards away in his jacket pocket, and watches Slaine, quiet now.

The shell _could_ very well be a pearl casing of some kind – _it looks like pearl, at least_ – though why it would be there, he is unsure of.

Protective, perhaps, meant to protect his skin from drying out, or perhaps protect him in general, from potentially harmful substances or material? And it just went wrong because Slaine had been dressed..

Or perhaps he is having an adverse reaction from being up here?

But Slaine had not been particularly worried by the coating itself – he had mostly seemed concerned with getting the shirt off of him as quickly as possible, and _then_ he had given his attention to the odd coating..

“ _Inaho?”_

Inaho raises his head, and finds Slaine extending the rag out toward him.

It is no longer dripping water.

“Thank you, Slaine,” Inaho murmurs, gently taking it and submerging it in the seawater once again – the cold nips at his skin, nips but does not bite, and he tries not to think about how cold it will feel once evening has fallen and the winds have picked up.

He will have to be dressed properly, but not heavily, just in case the pirates _do_ try something and he is forced to take action.. It is, after all, only seven of them versus thirteen of the pirates, plus their leader. Thankfully, they had not seemed very trained or coordinated during their first skirmish; bringing them to Magadan and having them held there should prove little-to-no problem.

Taking the rag back once it has been properly soaked again, Slaine starts to work on his arm, and little by little, the pink shell starts to fall apart and reveal more irritated skin.

Inaho falls completely silent as Slaine goes about his new task.

 

 

“.. finally off sea, so we can look around once we deal with those pirates. The force in Magadan will be able to take proper custody of them, and we won't have to deal with them anymore..”

“Mm.. Hopefully there are leads on our guest, so we can look for his family.. What do you think the captain will do if we're unable to locate them?”

“W.. well, uh.. We can't just keep him on the ship, right..? I'm sure the cap'n..–”

“Excuse me,” Inaho quietly interrupts Calm before he can finish.

Visibly tensing up before him, the group compose themselves and turn their heads, relaxing somewhat upon seeing that it is just Inaho, Inaho with a woollen hat now on and his hands shoved in his pockets. Even without the wind and waves drowning their voices out, their chattering would have been enough to mask Inaho's thudding footsteps, _has_ been enough on multiple occasions to allow Inaho to startle them with his sudden presence.

“You've finished?” Inaho questions as he continues to walk toward them, settling in the small space between Calm and Yuki – the winds are still _freezing_ , harsh and whipping cold against his skin, and he wishes it was already time for them to get in the rowboats to Magadan. At least they will have a week to settle in and re-acclimate themselves to land and warm fires.

“Erm..” Inko shifts somewhat beside Nina, glancing at the map, “Kind of, yes. We were discussing Slaine.”

“How is he?”

“.. he.. stopped coughing,” Inaho answers simply, being careful with his words, “I found him a better blanket for when it's time to leave for Magadan.”

A thicker, slightly longer blanket that should help with keeping his tail covered up completely, and provide no chance of any kind of accidents from occurring.

They are all huddled around a large barrel, and Nina has her hands pressed against the barrel's top, keeping the map under her hands in place, keeping the wind from stealing it away. The astrolabe also rests upon the barrel's top, clattering quietly as the wind rushes by.

“.. Calm, you can carry him, right?” Inaho questions, “Just for a few seconds. Because you'll have to help him back into the wheelchair when you make it to port.”

“Sure. S'long as he doesn't freak out, that should be fine,” Calm says, shrugging.

If Slaine _does_ start to panic, then.. he is unsure of what they would have to do to calm him down; they will be without Inaho, who Slaine is obviously the most comfortable around.

“Hey, what's.. what's all that pink stuff on your jacket?” Yuki suddenly asks, picking off a few stray flakes off of him – they crumble and crack softly between her fingers, ground to pinkish-white dust. “Flakes? What is this?” she questions, and Inaho immediately starts to brush off the bits and pieces from his coat, remaining quiet.

“It.. looks kind of like hardened glue,” Inko points out, “But it's pink?”

“How did that get all over your jacket if you were just with Slaine?” Calm questions, glancing at the brunet's back, where there are also a few dozen flakes caked along the fabric of his coat. They barely stand out amongst the grey, the clouds masking the sun's light and making it slightly harder to see the shiny sheen of whatever this stuff is.

“I went to the storage room, to find Slaine a better blanket,” Inaho says, and it is another half-truth, a half-truth that continues to make it so that he is not completely lying to them. “Perhaps something in there was breaking. It was dark,” he says, and it is a suggestion, this time. He catches Calm glancing at him from the corner of his eye and starts to brush the pearl-like flakes off of his back, as well, trying to completely be rid of them.

Though he had not been able to clean up as much as he wanted, he _had_ managed to hide the shirt and blanket, leaving Slaine behind with the pink-ridden sheets. Slaine had not complained when Inaho brought him a new shirt and a thicker blanket to cover most of his skin. Slaine had seemed fine when he left, this time, preoccupied with one of the crew's journals; he was gentle enough with the pages to warrant giving him another chance with a fragile object, and perhaps the scribbles and illustrations will keep him entertained. Just until lunchtime, and then Inaho will be free to monitor him until this evening.

“Huh. We'll hafta clean it out later, then,” Calm says, resting his weight against Inaho's shoulder, preventing him from moving any further. “So. How is he? Still sweet on you?” he questions, teasing and light, and this time, Inaho understands what he is getting at.

Frowning, Inaho ignores his question, and gently elbows his friend in the stomach, using his smaller height to his advantage. “Are we going to continue?”

 

 

“Something like this, then,” Calm says, “Slaine'll sit right here.. Nina will be next to him, and I'll be in front of him.. and then Tsumugi and Matsuribi can sit next to me, or at the front.. And one of them can hold onto his wheelchair, or something, and I'll row.” Pulling at the oars at either side of the rowboat, he gives them a small tug, listening to them clatter loudly against the rings keeping them in place. The way they are now, he should have no problem rowing even with Slaine sitting behind him.. but the sound..

“It'll work, but.. whether or not Slaine remains calm..” Nina points out, frowning slightly.

Inaho gazes at the rowboat for a few moments, realising that the setup will indeed work, but Slaine's reaction, for now, is unknown. That, and they will also have to lower the boat into the water.. For such a small boat, surely the waves will be rather.. unkind to it.. And it will be loud. Much louder than Inaho expects the bottom of the sea is.

He tugs his woollen cap further over his ears and breathes out softly, tasting salt in his mouth and on his tongue – no doubt Slaine will find joy in the familiar scent and taste, and hopefully that will ease any fears he may have. “After lunch, we'll bring him outside,” he says simply.

The best they can do is _show_ Slaine what they are going to do and hope he understands – _hope he understands enough to play along, at least_ , Inaho tells himself.

“I'm sure we'll figure something out,” Inko offers, and she starts to follow after the others when they finish messing with the rowboat, thudding footsteps louder with all of them moving, louder over the crashing waves and wind.

“If we're lucky, he'll be tired. Then he'll be less alert and easier to calm down,” Yuki points out, smiling as she glances toward her brother, who meets her gaze with a look of vague worry. Gently nudging him forward, she gestures down the right side of the hall, which leads to their rooms and the infirmary, “Meet you there, Nao. Be sure to be nice to him, okay?”

 _I've_ **been** _being nice to him,_ Inaho wants to say. Instead, he nods a few times, and watches as they disappear around the corner, their voices carrying and floating away in the much quieter confines of the ship. Starting to walk down the corridor, he listens instead to his own footsteps echoing again in the halls, the key at his wrist swaying to and fro silently with nothing to clatter against..

If he were unkind to Slaine, he assumes the blond would be far more testy, would react badly and lash out in an attempt to defend himself. Like when Inaho had tried to touch his neck – he may become agitated, _dangerously_ agitated. Slaine's nails had been.. kind of painful, against his wrist.

Not that he will make that apparent. Slaine still seems shaken, after all.

Shaken, but he is still being gentle, even though he does not have to be, given all that has happened.

Inaho comes to a stop in front of his door, blinking in surprise when he hears Slaine's soft voice on the other side of it, muffled and low as he goes on and on. Pulling at the key after a few moments of stunned silence, he gently knocks on the door before unlocking it, careful as to not surprise the blond. “Slaine..?” he murmurs, gently pushing it open, “What were you do–..”

Slaine cocks his head somewhat as Inaho suddenly stops speaking, and he gently sets the small, shiny beads he had been holding down on the sheets. “ _Inaho?”_ he calls softly, somewhat confused now as the other stares at him, “ _Inaho?”_

Inaho takes a few steps forward, pulling the door shut behind him, and glances at the string of beads that shine in the dim light of the lantern, the surface lustrous. “.. Slaine,” he starts again, and he watches as the blond too glances at the string of beads, and then back up at him, a smile pulling at his lips.

“ _Þetta er fyrir þig,”_ Slaine says, and he holds the string up again, allowing the beads to better catch the light. There are three of them on the thin, shimmering string, and all of them are rather small and pinkish, still lustrous in the light.

They look like –

“ _Perlur,”_ Slaine continues, waving the string out in front of himself, “ _Þetta eru perlur. Fyrir þig.”_

 _'Perlur'?_ Inaho tries to mentally repeat, the word _almost_ familiar; it sounds like something he would have heard before, somewhere. Slaine remains gazing up at him as he takes a few more short steps forward, and he holds a hand out, allowing the blond to deposit the string in his hand. The beads feel cool in his palm, cool and _hard_ when he squeezes them, showing no signs of shattering.

Slaine hums softly up at him, a small smile continuing to pull at his lips as he quietly watches Inaho in what seems to be expectation.

Inaho glances at the sheets and find that the flakes that had been covering them are gone, _entirely_ gone, and not a trace of them remains. “You..” he starts to say, and he finds that he cannot be truly surprised any longer. Slaine's antics and oddities are slowly becoming commonplace as he realises that he knows next to nothing about what their guest can and cannot do. “You turned them into pearls,” he finally says, and Slaine _beams_ at him know, looking excited. “Thank you, Slaine,” he says softly, managing a grateful smile.

_This must be an apology for earlier. Or a gift._

“ _Ekkert að þakka, Inaho.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, Slaine says;  
> "Inaho, look." x2  
> "Inaho.. You.. are very kind."  
> "Water. Sea water. For me."  
> "Thank you."  
> "This is for you."  
> "Pearls. These are pearls. For you."  
> "You're welcome."  
> 


	27. Chapter 27

“.. really light, it's almost white!”

Inaho remains quiet as he watches Nina and Yuki fawn over their guest, Slaine's face burning a light shade of red. His hands rest in his jacket pockets, fingers brushing against the cool string of pearls hidden within one of them; they appear to be quite real, not having shattered like the adhesive coating, and they do not seem to be flaking, either. For a moment, his gaze flickers to where Slaine's ears should be, _would_ be visible if his hair were not so thick or if it were a little shorter, and he wonders if perhaps his oddly shaped ears can flush as well, like humans' do.

“It looks even whiter with you making him red like that..” Calm points out, frowning somewhat, “Is hair supposed to even _be_ that light?”

Slaine lifts his head again, teal eyes flickering between the two women before him before he looks to Inaho, gaze slipping moments later to his hidden hands.

The pearls. Inaho had hid them in front of him, not trying to make it seem as if they had just disappeared, or that he did not want to wear them; Slaine _seems_ to understand why he has not put the bracelet on, and has not made any mention of it, or tried to retrieve them.. It is safe, then, to assume he knows _why_ they must be out of sight.

Inaho meets Slaine's eyes after a moment, and earns a small, shy smile.

“Slaine looks _fine_ ,” Yuki insists, shaking her head a few times, and at that, the blond glances up at her, looking mildly worried by her close presence. Smiling warmly at the other, Inaho watches as Slaine's face flushes further, clearly flustered by the attention.

* * *

 

 _Why aren't they eating?_ Slaine cannot help but wonder. They seem to be talking about him, not with or to him, and these two especially seem to be interested in him for whatever reason.. especially Inaho's sister, Yuki. Slaine cannot bring himself to look her in the eye; she is bright, and warm, and too, too kind. Her and Inaho are opposites, he has realised, black and white. Yuki reminds him of that dancing, glowing light from before – enchanting, but dangerous.

It.. kind of hurts to look at her.

Nina is barely better, just as bright, just as dangerous.. No one has ever been this kind to him before, this amount of attention is.. confusing. Glancing up at her after a moment, he finds the blonde smiling at him, too, though she is far more relaxed, at ease, and does not seem like the unpredictable light that Yuki is. The colour of Nina's eyes are vaguely familiar, reminiscent of the shiny, green rocks that litter his room. And they are pretty. And bright. And they shine, with a liveliness that has he has not seen in quite awhile.. Even Harklight looks tired sometimes, and Slaine's own reflection is not that much better.

 _The attention is nice,_ Slaine will admit – despite it being unnerving and making his face feel as if it is being repeatedly shocked by jellyfish. This feeling, the warmth in his chest, the one making his heart light.. has been missing for quite some time.

“ _Hey, Slaine?”_ Nina calls softly, holding out one of her hands.

Slaine takes it after a moment, and allows her to loosely grip his hand, running her thumbs along the backs of his fingers, his knuckles.. Nina's skin is warm against his own, warm and prickling kind of like Inaho's are. The warmth is uncomfortable still, a small reminder that they are not the same, in spite of looking so similar; sharing half of the same features does not seem to be enough.

“ _He's still cold..”_

“ _If you let him eat, I'm sure he'd warm up a bit,”_ Inaho says, and Slaine glances at him for a moment before looking to the glass of water he is currently holding. Unlike the two beings currently distracting Slaine, Inaho has been quietly eating and drinking, detached from what has been going on. “ _And if he eats, he might get tired. And he'll be calmer during the ride to Magadan. Right, Yuki-nee?”_ he continues, voice soft and droning; unlike _all_ of the other beings, he seems completely at ease, though that is to be expected. For the both of them, surely, the excitement of meeting another.. kind of creature has worn off.

Now, Slaine thinks, they are merely curious, curious as to what the other is exactly.

“ _Ah, right.. People get tired after they eat, right? Maybe he'll take a nap the whole way,”_ Yuki says, and she starts to pull at Nina's arm, sounding mildly worried.

Nina lets his hand go after a moment, gently, and places it back onto his lap, warmth from her fingertips lingering for a few more uncomfortable seconds. Slaine brushes his own fingers against his hand, trying to make the feeling go away faster, and he hears Calm start to laugh quietly from his spot, followed by an abrupt stop and an annoyed sigh.

“ _Behave yourself,”_ Inko murmurs, and Slaine has to look between Nina and Yuki to see her frowning at her companion, the look on her face similar to the one Harklight had when he found Slaine and his dear cousin trying to sneak into rooms that were meant to be off-limits.

Nina and Yuki move away from him after a moment, reclaiming their spots on the elongated chair, and soon the room is filled instead with the sound of silverware and quiet clinking – what it would have been earlier, had they not gotten distracted.

Inaho pushes a plate toward him to gain his attention again, a plate holding two of those tasteless things from before, and something that resembles meat. It is not fish, it does not smell of fish, but it does seem similar, in a way; it smells of salt, less salty than fish is, and it has some kind of sweet smelling goldish liquid on it. “ _Eat, Slaine,”_ he says, pushing it just closer and placing a fork beside the plate, nodding when Slaine meets his eyes. He looks patient, again, patient and expectant.

Slaine glances between Inaho and the fork before he picks it up and pokes at the meat, watching as the liquid sticks to the metal prongs, but does not drip like water would.

It seems.. slow. And heavy.

Careful not to get the goldish stuff on his fingers – this, too, reminds him of a jellyfish, now that he thinks about it – he cuts away at the meat, cutting it into bite-sized pieces before he starts to eat it. This meat is thicker than fish is, but it has no bones in the way.. _I wonder why he isn't giving me a knife,_ Slaine thinks as he gazes at the small, misshapen pieces of meat on the plate before him, _He has that round thing.._

That 'round thing', being the silver, odd – what Slaine _assumes_ to be – utensil that Inaho is using to drink oddly coloured water. Why he cannot bring the bowl to his mouth and drink it that way, is a mystery, as is the fact that there are small bits of orange and green matter floating in the odd water. It looks.. dirty? Kind of like when a fish or crab kicks up sand, and the water looks muddled..

Looking away from the bowl, he starts to eat his own meal, chewing slowly, and –

Calm starts laughing again, muffled by his own attempts to quiet himself, hand pressed firmly against his mouth. “ _S.. sorry!”_ he tries to say, and it comes out too high, but Slaine ignores him for now, too taken aback by the texture of the gold liquid.

It is far too sticky. And it is hard to chew, and it feels odd to swallow. Pressing the back of his hand to his lips, Slaine tries to unstick the liquid from his teeth and the roof of his mouth; it feels uncomfortable on his gums.

“ _Oh..”_

“ _He's never had honey before!”_ Nina whispers, green eyes shining with excitement, “ _That's so cute.. Like giving someone a lemon, when they've never had one..”_

Inaho remains quiet, and only offers Slaine a guilty look when their eyes meet, taken by surprise; it seems he did not expect it, and even he looks somewhat amused by the reaction.

“ _It's – it's really cold up north..”_ Calm manages to say between broken pauses of amused laughter, “ _..so they wouldn't.. they wouldn't have bees.. right?”_

“ _I'm not sure that's how that works, Calm.”_

Inaho pushes a glass of water toward Slaine, his own, a glass already half-empty; Slaine had already finished his own glass a while ago, while he was waiting for Inaho to return with food. Still.. water is water, and perhaps it will wash down the odd feeling in his throat. Slaine takes it and sips from it slowly, the water now cloyingly sweet.

“ _Do they have lemons up north? We should gi –..”_

“ _No,”_ Inaho murmurs, “ _We're not going to do that. At least we know now what not to give him during our stay in town. There was too much honey on the ham, anyway..”_

Slaine sets the glass of water back down once he has finished it, frowning somewhat as he gazes between the others; they still look highly amused by his reaction to the gold liquid. The taste still lingers in his mouth, good, but far more sweet than anything he has ever tasted. Finishing his meal will not be a problem so long as he washes it down with water, but.. “Inaho,” he calls softly, and the other looks back toward him, waiting. “Water? Please?” he asks, tapping his nails against the glass.

Inaho nods and takes the glass, going behind the wooden slab and disappearing into what looks like another room. Presumably, that is the room that stores the water.. since they are far too up to get water from the sea. Perhaps it is filled with multiple glasses, or metal containers.. though he has yet to see any on this particular ship. They seem to lack shiny rocks and discs as well, though Inaho did have a few discs hidden in his room.. and, somehow, Inaho also had a few sea shells.

Inaho returns with a full glass, and sets it back down, and Slaine catches the other staring at him with what seems to be worry in his dark eyes.

It is gone moments later.


	28. Chapter 28

Inaho cannot help but stare at the back part of Slaine’s neck as he follows after Calm. With the woollen cap on Slaine’s head – _Inaho’s_ woollen cap that he had been wearing up until a few moments ago – pressing on Slaine’s hair, it controls the thick fluff and makes it that much harder to see the scar along the nape of his neck. Given how windy it is outside, Slaine’s hair may not be thick or long enough to hide his ears if the wind blows too hard, and.. they are not exactly human looking enough to pass, unlike the other visible parts of him.

“You _sure_ he won't need a jacket or somethin’, on the way there?” Calm asks again, soft tone full of worry, “Don't, uh.. people like him.. get colder easier?” Tightly gripping the handles behind Slaine's wheelchair, he pushes their guest down the corridor, being careful; he is taking small, short steps, trying not to go too fast or turn too hard or bump into anything that may displace their guest.

“.. yes,” Inaho murmurs, able to understand their worry. “It's true that some people with his.. disability.. do have trouble keeping their temperature normal, but he's fine the way he is. He's done nothing to indicate that he's cold.”

Perhaps when they get outside and see that Slaine is indeed perfectly fine, they will finally drop the subject and pass it off as a mere quirk, or attribute it to the fact that he may be from the north and used to it.

Slaine is quiet, distracted by a small handful of hard candies Nina had given him to compensate for the honey. The pillow-shaped things rest loosely in his hands, striped red against white, and they seem to appeal to him far more than the honey did; he has already eaten a few of them. And.. rather than sucking on them like most _humans_ do, he bites and chews on them, and the first time he did it, he earned another startled response from the crew.

Yuki was genuinely concerned as to _why_ he was choosing to eat peppermints in such a way, thinking it not to be good on his teeth.

 _I don't think he'll realise how to properly eat that,_ Inaho thinks to himself, the thought mildly amusing; Slaine's mannerisms are not likely to change during his stay here, and his reactions will surely continue to be interesting if he keeps on discovering new things.

A week of this.. in Magadan, by the sea.. Perhaps Inaho will be able to learn a few more things about Slaine before they part ways.

* * *

 

Slaine tries not to fidget too much as he looks around, unable to help by being astounded by what he assumes to be the 'outside'. At least, he assumes this area classifies as much, given he has been staying in the _interior_ of the ship..

It is.. loud, out here: there is some kind of sharp, whistling noise in his ears, fading and returning, as if something is whipping past him, and something else he thinks may be the ocean's surface. It sounds as if water is crashing against the ship, _roughly_ , like a shark slamming itself into rock when a fish has hidden in a crevice..

And it is bright. Still painfully bright for his sensitive eyes; attempting to glance upward at whatever is blinding him had immediately been stopped by Inaho stepping in front of him, blocking whatever it is he was going to find. That may have been for the best, now that he considers it – even without looking directly into whatever is up there, he feels his eyes narrow whenever he raises his head too much, and he keeps wanting to shut them.

The air, too. This must be what it normally feels like.. cold, amazingly cold, but without the dampness or dark of the sea. Breathing in the rich air is hard, and Slaine has to take slower, shallower breaths lest he make himself dizzy from all the oxygen. If breathing in this air means he gets to gaze at the sea, then he will try his hardest not to let anything bother him, try his hardest to fit in with these beings.

Calm and Inaho are talking quietly behind him, sparing him glances to make sure he presumably does not fall over the ship's edge; the chair feels unsteady beneath him despite him being still, and he has to grip the edge tightly to keep himself and the chair in place.

The other three are crowded around some large wooden thing that Slaine had not spent enough time looking at – the sea is _right there_ , and it looks vastly different when gazing down upon it instead of looking up from in it.

Why they had all come with him, he is not sure, but perhaps this is their way of relaxing; socialising, spending time with one another.. And given Calm had been the one to push him around instead of Inaho, he supposes this is their way of trying to spend more time with him? Nina had given him those hard things, and they had tasted much better than the golden liquid from before.. the hard things had left his mouth kind of tingling, shocking, and Inaho had taken them from him before they had come out here, presumably to keep them safe.

Slaine glances at them for a moment before allowing his gaze to slip back downward; whatever their intentions are, at least they have finally brought him to see the rest of this overworld. There is more sea foam on the ocean's surface, bubbling and washing away with each hard movement the sea makes, and.. it looks amazing. Rocking, swaying back and forth kind of like the seaweed.. it looks familiar. He _could_ just leave, right now, he could swim home – but these beings would worry. They would worry, and that would be unfair, especially since they consider him to be one of their own, the same.

Until now, his own world was limited to the sea's sandy bottom, to the hot vents, and the palace, and the ruined ships that litter the ocean like the pearls and shiny rocks back in his bedroom. The world was made up almost entirely of water, with few pockets of air and dryness here and there, and darkness, and giant, glowing creatures that threatened to eat him if he was not careful.

 _Why.. did no one tell me?_ he wonders, frowning, _Did no one know? Someone must have known.. Harklight, or.._

He allows the thoughts to trail off, pulling away from the ship's edge upon realising he does not want to think about the possibilities of his family hiding things from him. _It doesn't matter,_ he tells himself, turning his head to find Inaho and Calm looking at him, curious expectancy in their eyes, _It doesn't matter, because soon I'll be home and I can ask._

Inaho leans down beside him and messes with the material covering his tail, pulling him forward –

“Are you going to pick me up again?” Slaine realises, holding his arms out; Inaho needs to hook an arm under his tail, which must be difficult on his arms, given he seems to be smaller than everyone else. “Where are we going?” he asks, freezing up when Calm instead picks him up, an arm under one of his own, and another under his tail, firmly grasping at the material covering him.

“ _.. I think he's in shock.”_

Slaine gazes at the other blond, heart in his throat.

Surely, Inaho did not intend for..

A moment passes and he feels Inaho's warm fingers at his own, prying them from Calm's shoulder, smoothing them over. “ _Slaine?”_ he calls softly, and Slaine turns his head to meet Inaho's dark, dark eyes, filled with that same kind of cautious worry from before.

Relax.

Slaine breathes out softly, gazing at the other for a moment before loosening his grip, nails instead resting above the material covering Calm's shoulder, no longer digging into it. “I don't like this,” he tells the brunet, voice a mere murmur with that whistling sound in his ears; even if they understood each other, their voices might still be hard to hear.

Calm moves, and Slaine keeps his gaze firm on the brunet, trying to keep his heart from getting too excited. This being, surely, will be just as gentle with him as Inaho is. Despite being taken off guard, this will end well; perhaps they are just curious about something, and it involves touching him, or carrying him.. Surely, there is a reason for this, even if it is not obvious. Following after Inaho once he moves toward the wooden thing resting on the floorboards, Calm shifts more, and Slaine can see more clearly that it seems to be a seat, of some kind. There are rows of planks inside of it, and it is hollow, allowing space for the bottom halves of their bodies, allowing space for _several_ bodies.

Slaine is not left much time to think as Calm lowers him, placing him gently onto one of the planks, helping him steady himself before he starts to fall over – he will have to sit up straight, on this. Unlike his chair, it lacks a back, and unlike Inaho's bed, it is not comfortable. The wood is cold under his fingers, far colder than Calm's own skin, and he lightly digs his nails into it as he grips the thin plank, scrapping his fingers along the bottom of it. Despite being thin, it seems to be strong enough, supporting his weight..

“ _He really has never been on a boat, has he?”_ Inko murmurs, and her voice is nearly lost to the whistling.

“ _Someone in his condition can't be expected to move around like this,”_ Inaho says, and Slaine feels a hand at his back as he starts to fall backward again, the dizzy feeling in his head still present.

The oxygen makes him feel disoriented, as if he cannot stay still. It seems like the ship is swaying. Turning his head, he finds Inaho looking at him with that patient look again, the understanding one that makes him feel as if these beings could be true friends, could they co-exist.

But he must get back home. Being up here, above the water.. is far too much.

Slaine looks away from the brunet, nails digging in more into the wood, and he feels it start to splinter at the force. _It must be nice, spending everyday with such kind beings,_ he figures, and Inaho's hand is still at his back, keeping him steady as he starts to sway again.

“ _.. let's get him inside. We know he'll let you handle him, even if it makes him a bit upset. We need to get ready to leave.”_


	29. Chapter 29

It feels.. odd.

Slaine is lying across from Inaho, tightly hugging the pillow they had taken from Yagarai's clinic. It is still covered in messy, broken charcoal prints, as Inaho did not have enough time to properly remove them, nor did he want to take the pillow away while Slaine was asleep. Had he woken up to find it gone.. Well, that might not have been good. A few tiny, barely noticeable holes dot its cover as well, courtesy of Slaine’s nails. The blond’s teal eyes are heavy, narrowed as he tries to fight off drowsiness.

Inaho remains as quiet as he can, trying not to move too much as he stares back at the other, watching as his eyes slowly close.. then then quickly open, his mind presumably telling him to stay awake, despite nothing currently happening.

Perhaps being drowsy is a good thing. Inaho thinks he can attribute that to the sun – even if it was shielded by clouds, it must be far, far more sunlight than Slaine is used to. Being out in it for too long _can_ cause fatigue, dizziness, can cause them lose their energy and become sleepy.. Coupled with Slaine’s already weakened state.. Slaine had been visibly dizzy outside, unable to sit up properly for even a short amount of time. Rest will do him some good.

“Slaine..” Inaho calls, starting to stand up –

Slaine mirrors him, sitting up as best he can, holding himself up with a shaky arm.

“Slaine,” Inaho says again, quickly closing the short distance between them, “Lie down. Rest. It's alright.” Raising a hand, slowly, he pushes the blond back down onto his side, as he had been before.

Thankfully, Slaine does not fight him, and lies back down, getting comfortable again, the pillow now under his chin as he adjusts himself.

Inaho hears him mumble something under his breath, far too low to catch, and chooses to ignore it, managing to catch Slaine's tired eyes again once he has settled. Walking around the edge of the bed, Inaho's gaze flickers to Slaine's tail, which is free temporarily, allowing him some time to relax and cool back down before they need to get ready to leave. It is a deep sort of purple shade, with varying shades of black spattered here and there, and a few milky white scales hidden amongst the darker ones. The scales shine as the lamp above them sways, catching the light just right to show off their sort of shimmery coating.. _It sort of looks light the nighttime sky,_ he notes.

A unique colouration. No fish around here look even a little like Slaine does, no _person_ around here save for Nina and Calm come close to matching his human features. The other mer-people may have a similar colouration to Slaine's, or a darker one – perhaps they are meant to be able to blend in with the ocean's depths, hide.. Though the shiny silver flecks in Slaine's tail do not seem to support that theory. It may not matter either way; the creatures most often talked about in books seem to be either blind or emit some kind of light, enabling them to see, even just slightly in the darkness. That, and.. there are rumours of giant monsters lurking about the ocean's depths, colossal squid, terrifying fish with rows upon rows of teeth..

The thought causes Inaho's gaze to flicker back upward to Slaine's neck, though he cannot see anything with the other now facing him. Slaine is lying on his other side, keeping his gaze firm on Inaho, though he still looks on the verge of nodding off any moment now.

Forty minutes.

Just forty minutes until they have to depart, more than enough time to somehow lull Slaine to sleep, have him rest even just until they are ready to go.

“Slaine,” Inaho says a third time, sitting himself down beside the blond, “Sleep.”

Slaine remains quiet, gaze slipping to Inaho's hand, which is loosely gripping the sheets. Reaching out, not enough to touch, he rests his fingers just before Inaho's own, and sighs quietly. “ _Ekki.. fara frá..”_ he murmurs, and his voice is still soft, soft and tired and laced with drowsiness. Finally allowing his eyes to shut, his breathing starts to even out and slow, and he soon relaxes completely, looking just as peaceful as when Inaho had found him a few hours ago.

 _Good. He's still able to let his guard down despite having been worked up over earlier.._ Inaho exhales softly, relieved.

It feels.. odd, having someone so strange by his side for this long. But it feels sort of nice, too.

 

 

Inaho gently tilts Slaine's head up again, slightly concerned by how.. limp, he is. Though he wants to, he does not allow the other's head to fall suddenly back down, and pulls away slowly, instead looking to his hands. Startling Slaine awake is not an option, or is at least a last resort if he is still not awake by the time they see each other again. Waking him normally is the more preferable option, the _safer_ one, for the both of them.

Slaine is sound asleep in his chair once again, and he is still hugging that pillow to his chest, resting his cheek on it. Inaho had been able to redress him with minimal complaint – he had whined in his sleep, turned – and had moved him to the chair without him once waking, the main cause of Inaho's concern. Slaine had been far more responsive to a simple touch on the neck, and there had been that adhesive to keep his skin from directly being touched..

“Slaine?” Inaho calls softly, pulling at his fingers, now, trying to pry them away from the pillow, “Slaine, wake up.”

No response.

The blond remains sound asleep, nails still digging into the pillow as he grips it, breathing quiet and slow. Inaho sighs as he pulls away from him again, hesitant to try anything that may yield a dangerous response. “I suppose you'll be asleep the whole way to Magadan..” he murmurs, slowly standing up, “At least Calm won't upset you. You may not even realise I'm gone.”

The thought is comforting, and Inaho sighs again, gazing at the other for a few moments more. Slaine may wake up somewhere unfamiliar, but Inaho may be there to greet him and calm him, should he find the change in scenery too jarring. Hopefully, it will not be too sunny in Magadan.. or else Inaho will have to sneak Slaine around at night, making escape more difficult; Yuki and the others will except them both to spend time with them now that they will be temporarily relieved from duty..

_This is getting.. increasingly difficult.._

Straightening himself as he pulls away from Slaine, Inaho listens to the other's quiet, low breathing before walking around him to push him down the hall. His footsteps are dull in the hall, echoing again now that the crew is not around to bounce noise off the walls.

A few hours is all it should take. A few more hours, and Inaho will have finally made progress into returning Slaine to the sea.

 

 

“The pillow's going to get wet though, isn't it?” Nina asks, fingers resting on Slaine's head, smoothing over the woollen cap that keeps his head, as far as she knows, warm.

Inaho had given her the pillow to rest against her lap, after asking if it would be alright if Slaine slept on her; her answer had been 'yes', and she insisted it would be rude to wake him up when he is so peaceful. Glancing between Yuki and Inaho – the latter of whom is still assisting her with Slaine, making sure that they are both in comfortable positions for what may be a long trip – Nina allows herself a small smile, knowing that they all must be worried for their guest.

“He won't mind,” Inaho murmurs, shaking his head.

Slaine seems perfectly comfortable like this, the warmth seemingly not too much for him. The cold seems to be a welcome addition for him, out here; with the wind, perhaps his temperature is kept down and normal, so that Nina's presence does not affect him too much.

“Well.. we'll see you in a few hours, then,” Nina says softly, and her smile remains warm, gentle, “We'll take care of Slaine for you. The captain gave us enough money to book some rooms at an inn.”

Inaho nods, pulling away. If Slaine had just been a human.. this whole situation would have been far less worrying, but not nearly as interesting.

“Don't pick the one nearest to the docks,” Yuki adds quickly, shaking her head, “The one closer to town is a safer bet, if we're going to be showing him around and getting him to recognise something.”

Nina nods, gaze flickering to the slumbering blond on her lap. “If he _does_ live near Magadan.. then he should at least recognise the sea from port. Most of the towns around border the Sea of Okhotsk..”

“And if not, that means he lives further in, or somewhere else entirely. But wouldn't it be hard for pirates to kidnap someone so far from the sea?” Tsumugi asks, a slight frown on his features, “We aren't even sure if he's Russian.”

“Russia is our best bet. And it's closest.”

They go quiet for a moment, no one quite sure enough except for Inaho on what they expect to find in the town. Even if they fail to help Slaine, they can all agree that they at least _tried_ and did their best, though Slaine's presence will be missed once they leave him behind with Magadan's public force.

“.. hey, uh,” Calm waves as he pulls at the oars, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Try not t' shoot any of the pirates, okay? It's a hassle t' hafta bandage 'em up because they got shot.”

Glancing downward, toward the rapier and pistol at his belt, safely kept in their respective guards, Inaho frowns. Without them, he had felt lighter, though the rapier does not weigh much at all, and the pistol is only heavy along with the gunpowder and bullets in his pockets, along with the other things needed to keep the gun clean and loaded properly. Wearing them with Slaine around.. was not necessary, and seems to have been a safer decision on his part; Slaine's curiosity really might have been the death of either of them, if the blond were to see such things that would almost certainly rust and decay to nothing under the water.

“I won't make any promises,” he murmurs, “You don't have to bandage them, anyway.”

And neither would Yagarai. It would be the duty of whichever doctor is part of the naval force in town.

“Just promise not to shoot 'em unless you _have_ to,” Matsuribi says, and his own smile is playful, mischievous, “Think, if the cap'n has'ta lecture you again, you'll be late seeing our guest here. Don’t’cha wanna get back to him as quick as possible?”

Inaho stares between the two of them, and then gestures to the rope, “Would you rather the line be cut, or let down gently?”

“Nao,” Yuki warns, pulling at his arm, “They're just teasing you. Let's let them go so they can find us a place to rest.”

Inaho catches the two of them grinning at him, and he remains quiet upon remembering just what Calm had mentioned earlier, about Slaine having taken a liking to him. It is not true, nor is it relevant; Slaine is going home, and Inaho is sure that they share the same top priority.

“By the way, before we go, are you going to be sharing a room again with him?” Nina asks, and _her_ question is innocuous, though it only serves to amuse Calm and Matsuribi further. “Or should we get him a separate room?”

“.. I'll share,” Inaho murmurs, “We'll see you in Magadan.”

Cutting the conversation short before Calm and Matsuribi can tease him further seems like a good idea. Getting to dock as quickly as possible is their highest priority.

“See ya!”

“We'll take care of Slaine for you.”

Inaho nods as he and Yuki begin to turn the small cranks at the ship's edge, the handles chilled from the cold winds. It is hard to turn, with the weight of the ropes and the stress of the rowboat pulling down on the pulley up above. The rowboat descends further and further as they turn, and it eventually disappears from sight, a quiet splash following soon after –

“You can pull the rope back in, now!”

Inaho glances over the railing one last time, earning a small wave from Nina before she continues smoothing the woollen cap on Slaine's head. Their guest is still fast asleep in her lap, face hidden in the folds of Nina's jacket, and Calm salutes him a last time before he starts to row away, the soft splashes of water lost to the waves of the ocean, the whistling winds..

“Nao,” Yuki calls, and Inaho feels a tug on his sleeve, “Let's get ready to go. We'll be seeing them soon, okay?”

 

 

“Wait, we.. we'll be leaving the ship behind? Before the ice starts to form near the dock?” Yuki asks, looking surprised. During the six years she has been enlisted, they have rarely ever done such a thing – then again, they do not visit the northern seas all that much, the ice and fear of hull damage precisely the reason why. The _Wadatsumi_ , serving primarily as a transport ship, is not as heavily armoured as other ships would be.

“Yes. We aren't sure how much ice there will be, but according to Klein's predictions, the ship will be too large and fragile to navigate through the ice and dock at port. If the hull were damaged, it'd be hard for the carpenters to repair,” Magbaredge explains, glancing toward the pirate ship looming behind them. They are still being cautious, no doubt, hesitant to act without their weapons and their leader in the _Wadatsumi's_ cells. “We'll get as close as possible, and then deploy the rowboat the rest of the way,” she continues, and Mizusaki remains quiet at her side, looking at the map Nina had left behind.

Yuki straightens herself, then, “But you're staying. With Mizusaki and Yagarai?”

“Someone has to watch the ship until Klein secures a place to stay. It wouldn't do well for Troyard if he had to deal with unnecessary proceedings as we deal with the pirates,” the captain answers, glancing toward Inaho, “I'm sure Marito and you will be able to handle the pirates just fine, with your junior crew members.”

Inaho frowns somewhat at that. _Instead of seven, we'll be five, then. Five against thirteen or fourteen,_ he realises, the odds feeling uneven. They will be crowded on the rowboat with fourteen adult pirates, who have been disarmed, but are agitated and bigger than two of the five of them. Splitting them up would take too much time, and the other five in their crew will be left on their own for longer than intended.. If something goes wrong, it would be too close quarters to be careful. “Captain,” he says, “What about their ship?”

“Their ship will be under Russian jurisdiction once we dock. What they decide to do with it is their choice.”

“No, I..” Inaho pauses, shaking his head. Fighting close quarters is a risk for all of them; the rowboat could tip over, and they would _all_ be left to fend in the icy water, too far from the ship and dock to get help before they freeze. “Rather than using the lifeboats this time, because there are more of them than usual.. let's commandeer their ship,” he says, “We commandeered that merchant ship last year. There's more than enough reason to do so.”

Magbaredge hesitates, looking slightly unsure. “We didn't 'commandeer' it,” she corrects, “They offered assistance in exchange for protection during the duration of repairs.”

“But you did take command of everyone.”

That merchant ship they 'commandeered' – they needed the extra bodies in handling repairs, _devastating_ repairs that had occurred after a particularly bad storm.. That had been five months ago, when Inaho had fallen off the ship and Nina's astrolabe had broken apart. The repairs were too much for their crew of three to attempt everything without consequences, and there just happened to be a merchant ship passing by at the time.. also in need of repairs. The captain had indeed taken it over for about a week until all repairs were finished, and then both ships were free to go on their way.

“Should we commandeer their ship, I won't be in charge. Their leader is remaining on board here, to be escorted separately. We don't want them getting any ideas,” Magbaredge says, pausing when Inaho shifts, looking unhappy with the answer, “However, if you agree to follow directions this time, Marito could take command until we're all back together.”

“Done,” Inaho says without a second thought – it should not be too difficult, heeding Marito's word. With him in charge, it means Yuki will be assisting him.. which allows for a slightly bigger margin for error. Yuki is far more observant when they are together with supposed enemies, and it will be difficult to slip and wander under her watch.

They will make it to Magadan with no issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slaine says;  
> "Don't leave [from here]."
> 
> please [click here](https://www.glaucus.org.uk/Pearlside.jpg) if you'd like to see a detailed photo of our dear Slaine ❤


	30. Chapter 30

“Cold?”

Inaho lifts his head at the quiet question, catching Inko smiling at him in that knowing, odd kind of way. “It's just a few hours outside,” he murmurs, knowing what she is getting at. Turning away from her, he glances upward, where Marito and Yuki are at the helm, taking turns navigating and steering, talking. Their voices are too low to make out, but he catches his sister looking at him, occasionally; they must be discussing their current circumstance, courtesy of Inaho willingly complying with orders, this time.

Yuki, Inko and Calm may take jabs at him.. but this is clearly the safest way to go about taking care of and ensuring the safety of their guest. The pirates will be dealt with quickly, their ship taken under Russian jurisdiction, and there is little room and cause for the pirates to revolt. They are not armed. They are downstairs, in their rooms, doing whatever, and the crew is more than ready to act if something goes awry. The captain, Mizusaki, and Yagarai are back on the _Wadatsumi_ , and Magbaredge is more than capable of handling a single pirate should he start to act up in his cell.

“A few hours outside in the cold,” Inko points out, approaching him, looking over toward Yuki as well, “The _freezing_ cold. Russia's winds are nothing to joke about. I'm sure the port is already snowed over.” Leaning against the banister, she glances between the two of them, still smiling, “Calm mentioned how much he seemed to like you.”

“Calm likes making trouble.”

They go quiet for a moment, listening to the waves crash against the ship, the wind whistle in their ears.. It _is_ cold; Inaho can feel the tips of his ears going numb, exposed, defenceless against the elements, and his cheeks and nose, no doubt, are flushed pink. Once they hit port, they will deal with the pirates as quickly as possible so they can meet up with the rest of the crew at the inn and warm up.

The pearl bracelet in Inaho's pocket weighs little, though he feels the beads press against his leg as he leans closer to the railing. They are stronger, much stronger than the coating that had been on Slaine's skin, and he doubts they will shatter as easily as the flecks had. Perhaps once they get to port, he can put it on in the safety of their private room – that _is_ what bracelets are for, and Slaine would probably be happy to see him actually wearing it. Breathing out softly, he glances again toward the brunette at his side, catching her violet eyes. “You don't feel the same way Calm does, do you?” he questions, frowning at her.

“I think he would've made a nice addition, had he been able,” she murmurs, shrugging, “It seems like Slaine would've been good for morale.”

Because from what little they know, Slaine _seems_ to be kind and gentle and warm, though his shyness and fear of them overtakes those particular traits. A shame – if Slaine were not so shy, he probably _would_ be a kind of mood booster like Nina or Calm, which would indeed be good for morale. Usually, the crew saves their enthusiasm for late nights, or during their off time once they have finished all their duties. Rescuing Slaine has caused quite the change in their routines and attitudes.. it is nice, having someone new on board, even if it is only temporary.

“.. what do you think about 'mermaids'?”

 _Ah,_ he realises, _They_ **were** _talking about that, then. That means Kakei and Calm.._ Gazing at her for a moment longer before looking away, he rests his hand against his cheek, trying to stop the light, quiet chattering of his teeth. Breathing out again, it comes out a white fog before him, warm, and his lips are starting to feel numb like his ears; his fingers will start to follow suit, soon. “You've heard the same stories,” he finally says, soft, “If they were trying to pass Slaine off as one of them, because he can't walk..”

Not quite a lie. A _suggestion_ , but not a lie.

“Their punishment for kidnapping someone helpless will be bad, and it'll be worse if they're making claims like that,” he continues, slow, listening to Inko shift and sigh beside him. The pirates gossiping amongst themselves is not a good sign, though anything they said cannot be taken seriously – nothing that leaves their mouths cannot be trusted. And making outlandish claims, even if Inaho is the only one that knows they are true.. Should the captain hear about this, it will most likely affect what the Russian officers decide to do with them.

“Yeah. You're right. It's just..”

“.. just what?” Inaho presses, glancing toward her again, catching her worried violet eyes.

They are filled with uncertainty, anxiety.. “I hope these aren't the kind of pirates we'll be dealing with, from now on,” she murmurs, lowering her tone, “Slaine wasn't hurt, but..”

_Oh._

Just because Slaine was not hurt, does not mean no one else will be. Their guest had been exhausted, frightened, and was in no shape to put up a fight; he had been starving, dehydrated, and too confused to properly react. If someone else happens to catch a real mermaid.. they could react in a similar manner Slaine had when Inaho tried touching his face, or react more dangerously.

No party would be spared from harm should anything happen.

“I see,” Inaho says.

It could happen. Mermaids coming to harm is a real possibility, as well as innocent civilians, pirates and naval officers alike. It would just take a rumour, a mere thought, speculations that a real mermaid had actually been caught..

“We can discuss it with the captain, later on. It's almost time to relieve Kakei, isn't it?”

Inko nods, the worry in her eyes lessening at the promise of speaking with Magbaredge. Surely their captain has some idea on how to handle such problems. “It'll be our turn, and then it's Yuki's turn to patrol,” she says, pulling away from the ship's banister, gesturing to the door leading to the pirate's hold. The redness in her cheeks rivals Inaho's own, though she has a cap on, and gloves. “It's warmer, down there,” she offers with a small smile, “It was nice of you to let him borrow your hat.”

Inaho only nods in response, unable to admit that Slaine probably will not even feel cold.

* * *

 

“ _.. can't swim.. Slaine..”_

_Slaine opens his eyes at the vaguely familiar voice, and finds that his vision is watery, watery and there are bits of sand that float before him, slowly, swaying._

_It is pretty. And familiar._

_Opening his eyes further, Slaine tries to hold himself up – his hand goes down, and meets nothing, and it takes him longer than it should to realise that he is back under the water, in what would seem to be a tunnel. Light filters in from above, dim light, and below, it is dark, giving way to the familiar pitch he has grown used to at the palace._

“ _Slaine..”_

_It sounds faraway. Gurgled. Muffled. Panicked._

_Slaine follows the voice as it continues to call for him, and it grows louder, louder still as he emerges from the tunnel into more open waters –_ **brighter** _waters. The sand is white here, soft, and it grazes his tail as he swims upward, a sort of greyish foam hanging above him. It looks.. dangerous. Blurry. Foggy._

_He finds himself startled when he breaks the water, caught by surprise, the same sort of surprise he had felt the first time, when he had been captured – the grey hangs up above him, makes it dimmer than he remembers it to be, but he still finds himself narrowing his eyes at the feeling._

_Too bright. It is still too bright for him._

“ _.. aine..”_

_The voice is softer, now, instead of louder, and Slaine turns around in the churning water, feels something hit his head seconds later –_

“ _.. it was water?” he questions, confused. Water had hit him. From somewhere up above. Slaine raises his head and shields his eyes, and feels another hard bit of water hit his face, and then another, and another –_

“ _Sla–..”_

_The voice. The familiar voice is still calling for him, even softer now, weaker, more gurgled._

_There is a splash beside him, loud, and he follows after it quickly, ignoring the water that hits his head and back from up above, despite it being more steady and rougher now. It feels sharp, like a pufferfish's inflated body, and cold, freezing, more freezing than he is used to._

_Slaine feels his chest tighten when he finds the source of the splashing._

_Inaho._

_Inaho is thrashing about the water, seemingly trying to stay above it rather than sink down under it, and his skin is blue._

_Something feels.. wrong. Off. Blue does not look right on Inaho, and his lips are bleeding, as well as the small cuts across his face._

“ _Slaine, hel–..”_

* * *

 

Nina sighs quietly as she smooths Slaine's woollen cap with her fingers, trying her best to soothe the unsettled blond.

Their guest started complaining in his sleep a while ago, not enough to wake up, but enough for them to realise that he may be having a bad dream, or is upset. Both, maybe, given Slaine's circumstances. Up until now, Inaho had been keeping him company as he slept, and though he has yet to wake, he may realise that he is not where he was when he fell asleep.

Slaine's nails lightly dig into the pillow, and his quiet groans leave the crew feeling guilty – they cannot help him unless they wake him, and that does not seem to be an option now that they are far, far from the ship. Waking him up when they reached shore or even the inn would have been ideal, and then they could get him to look around, and see if he recognises anything.. But.. it seems that will have to wait, until he has settled down, or Inaho rejoins them.

They remain quiet as the wind whistles past them, and Calm steadily rows, slowly but surely, toward the shore in the distance. Though it has been quite awhile now since they have left the _Wadatsumi_ , Calm has yet to ask Matsuribi or Tsumugi to switch with him. Matsuribi has an arm wrapped around one of the wheelchair's armrests, keeping it in place as their boat sways with the churning waves, and Tsumugi is silent beside him, looking over Nina's maps as best he can without ruining them or getting them wet with seawater.

“.. so,” Calm says after a few moments, breaking the silence, “The pirates were talkin' about Slaine. They were.. pretty pissed that Inaho found him.”

“We were going to find him eventually, even if Inaho hadn't wandered off,” Nina points out.

Once the pirates had been secured, they would have thoroughly looked over the ship for contraband, weapons, people.. and either way, everything would have been confiscated, and the pirates would still be escorted to the nearest dock. Hostages, though rare, would have been found and rescued.

Shaking his head, Calm's gaze slips to the slumbering blond on Nina's lap, and his blue eyes narrow, “One of the pirates was chasing Inaho after he found Slaine. And they called him their 'precious treasure'.”

Nina blinks at that, though she finds herself only slightly surprised by the notion; such a thing is not uncommon, and if the pirates indeed found Slaine somewhere in Russia, it is possible he may belong to a wealthy family, or at least a relatively well off one. The ports are home to fishing and trading families, who earn most of their income thanks to the influx of people coming to the towns.. “So he really was kidnapped, then,” she murmurs, frowning as she continues to smooth Slaine's cap, his complaints softer now, grip on the pillow more relaxed.

“They were going to ransom him,” Tsumugi says bluntly, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, “A boy, who can't walk and doesn't understand Japanese.. He was rightfully terrified of us.”

“There's more,” Calm murmurs, lowering his voice, and something of a frown starts to tug at his features, something between confusion and uncertainty, “They kept.. callin' him a 'mermaid'. Almost every time I went down there, they insisted he was a 'mermaid'.”

“.. because he can't walk?” Matsuribi questions, “I've heard of some pirates using that excuse when they kidnap women. But in our guest's case..”

Calm sighs and looks away from the blond, shrugging, “Dunno. Doesn't matter, I guess. We're taking him home, anyway.”

What pirates do with 'mermaids'.. is crass. Every naval officer knows the myths and legends. And every port-side town has their share of stories and gossip, whispers in inns and warnings posted about.

Mermaid blood and flesh is said to bring immortality, cure any and all illness.. They were told the stories when they first joined, about how fish and small whales were sometimes found ashore with chunks of flesh missing, and their blood drained. They have seen the black markets, with dirty jars and vials of some runny, diluted, pasty red liquid, alongside samples of bloody meat. They have _shut down_ the markets and collected contraband, had to toss it back to sea, had to _handle_ it and get their hands sullied with blood they were unsure came from.

They have learned.

But handling people obsessed with 'mermaids' never becomes easier.

 

 

“.. about that one, then? That inn doesn't seem too far.. It's right at the edge of town and the port..” Calm shifts, leaning against Slaine's wheelchair. The snow is frothy slush underneath their feet, the port covered in the stuff – the waves lap at the edge of the wooden dock, pushing and pulling snow across the boards, making it rather slippery and dangerous.

Getting on it without slipping had been tricky. Slaine's wheelchair was especially dangerous – Matsuribi had to hold it in place to prevent it from rolling off once Calm put Slaine down, and now his added weight keeps it relatively still. Calm is careful as he leans against it, not to push too hard, knowing Inaho would react.. badly.. if something were to happen to their guest.

“Hmm.. maybe.. It seems like it's big enough to house all of us, too. Should we ask if they have rooms available?” Nina muses, allowing the others to look and point at all the small notices in her map. There are a few inns marked here and there, and a general idea of what Magadan has available to naval officers.. The more detailed maps are unnecessary for the crew, who will not be staying too long on land in a foreign area. “We should look around, too. I don't think Slaine will be waking for awhile.”

 

 

They are only half right.

They managed to walk around for an hour or so, looking around and checking to see if anyone recognised their sleeping guest.. No one did, unfortunately, but they did book a few rooms at a large inn, and no longer have to fear of being separated now that everyone has a space and is accounted for. Nina was careful to book Inaho and Slaine a room on the first floor, making it easier for the both of them – everyone else was booked wherever they could fit, according to the inn's layout. It is far from the port, as Yuki specified, but the sea is still visible, and the town is still bustling with sailors and officers and citizens alike.

When they were finished, they returned back outside to check more notices – most of which were in Russian, a few in English, and a few rare ones in what looked to be German – but found none that seemed to be for any missing persons. There were a few postings with a young woman's appearance featured on it, but from what the crew could tell, it was just a newsletter of some kind.

.. now, however..

“Slaine..” Nina tries, voice soft, gentle, low, as she crouches down in an attempt to meet the blond's gaze, “Inaho's coming back soon. We're sorry for separating you..”

Calm, Tsumugi and Matsuribi are standing off to Nina's side, careful not to move suddenly or disrupt their navigator; Nina is the gentlest out of all of them, though that trait does not seem to be working well for her, at the moment. They remain quiet as she tries to console him, wary of any passersby who glance in their direction.

Slaine had woken up soon after they settled down, immediately upset.

Their guest refuses to meet Nina's eyes, and Slaine digs his nails into his lap and bites on his lip – he seems to be trying hard not to cry, despite being so obviously distraught. He has yet to utter a word in their presence, remaining quiet, or perhaps him being on the verge of tears is making it hard for him to speak. Either way, with him the way he is now.. it seems it will be hard to even get back to the inn and have him wait for Inaho there.

Nina sighs quietly, frowning.

This is not a good position for them to be in. Perhaps staying and waiting at the inn might have been a wiser choice – that way, at least, they could have been in a private area and Slaine could have been more comfortable..

Slaine breathes out softly after a moment, shaky, and looks away from Nina completely, choosing to stare instead at the bulletin board.

Nina continues to gaze up at him, watching as he blinks a few times, and then squints at the board. Straightening herself, she follows his gaze, settling on one of the pieces of paper with that young woman's appearance drawn onto it. “Do you.. want that?” she questions, walking toward the board and pulling a paper from it – these ones are all written in Russian, and the alphabet they use is unfamiliar. Even if she wanted to, it would be hard to guess at what it might say. “Slaine?” she calls, holding out the paper for him.

Slaine takes the paper slowly from her, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand before looking it over, allowing his fingertips to run over the words. “ _.. concert.. for the.. people in December..”_ he murmurs, slow, soft, and the crew look among themselves, realising he is not speaking whatever he had spoken before: he is speaking, _reading_ , Russian, now.

The accent is different, still, but it is definitely Russian – it sounds similar to the words slipping from the citizens and other officers wandering around, though much softer and more muted in Slaine's tone.

A pause.

“ _R.. Ray.. Rayet..?”_

Nina perks up at the gasp, watches as Slaine's teal eyes widen in what seems to be shock.

Slaine lights up seconds later, hugging the paper tightly, and it crinkles in the air. “ _Rayet.. Rayet..”_ he murmurs, voice soft, a _hum_ now. Relief is on his features, happy, relaxed relief. A smile pulls at his lips, as warm as the one he had when introducing himself – it catches the crew off guard – and he hums softly to himself, visibly settled down compared to just a few moments ago.

“Is.. that a name? Does he know who that is?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!  
> This month marks a year I've been working on this particular piece -- I know I've been a bit sporadic with chapter updates, and I do apologise for that, but -- I wanted to say thank you to those who enjoy it so much! I'm glad y'all seem to enjoy this as much as I do, so thank you for all the support! ❤ ❤ ❤


	31. Intermission 3

Slaine's understanding on the concept of 'family' is limited. With an absent, distant father, and a mother whom he has never met before, his idea of 'parents' are quite different from the norm. The undersea creatures lack blood relations, like normal human families do, as well as nearly every other creature in their world.

'Parents' are those whom are there initially for a child, meant to guide and care for them at the earliest stages of their life. They do not provide love and care after a few years, and go on with their lives, acting as if those whom they raised and cared for no longer exist. Harklight is there for him, taking the place of an absent, work obsessed father. These past seventeen years, Harklight has been here for him when others have not, or been unable to be. Rayet has been here for him, too. Just as long as Harklight has. And she is just as dear.

“Rayet..?”

It comes out soft.

The brunette beside him lifts her head, and Slaine meets her lavender coloured eyes.

They are pretty, and remind him vaguely of the sparkly, purple rocks that litter his room. Some of them are far too dark to match Rayet's eyes, but some of them are foggy, muddled, and look as if they have specks of sand inside them. They are beautiful, but they are not his favourite colour.

“What?” Rayet questions, and Slaine smiles. Though she is blunt at times, he has gotten used to her tone and mannerisms. The brunette shifts, and she lets sand slip between her fingers. The grains linger on her tail, visible against the deep red until they slip and fall and float against spots of grey and black.

The red is what caught his eye the first time they met. Rayet's red scales nearly match the reddish hue to her hair, and unlike most of the other's here, her red is.. different. It does not splatter, and there is no discernible pattern between the red and grey and black. For all her colour, however, she is mostly entirely red, with the grey and black specks few and scattered along her tail. Unlike Slaine, she does not have even a hint of white, though she does have translucent scales along her cheeks and ears.

“You’ve never considered.. going back, have you?” he asks.

Most of his childhood memories from before moving to this part of the ocean are foggy. Vague. They are blurry, and he would rather not try and remember them, unless necessary. Those days, he had only his father, and even then..

_Even then, papa.. didn’t really.._

“Going back to Okhotsk..?” Rayet muses, raising an eyebrow as she gazes at the other.

They have been family longer than even he and Harklight have, even if it is only by a year. Though Slaine does not exactly understand the concept, he has been told several times that they are ‘cousins’, a different and separate distinction from parents and siblings. The concept of ‘siblings’ is easier for him to understand. Siblings will not abandon their family, like parents do. Having a sibling means having someone that will always be at one’s side and in each other’s lives.

Harklight and Rayet are not his siblings, but he hopes they can remain a part of his life, like they always have been.

“Only if dad wants to,” she says after a moment, brushing the excess sand from her tail. It is annoying to deal with if it gets caught between scales, and it irritates, badly. The pearl coating is easier to deal with – that, at least, dissolves naturally with water and can easily be removed once it has softened.

Glancing again at her cousin, her lavender eyes linger over his face. She has some understanding of how naïve Slaine is. Due to his current state, he is purposefully kept in the dark about certain affairs. Harklight has specifically instructed her not to let anything slip concerning the surface world and the other, intelligent beings they share their world with. It is none of her business, as to why and how long they will keep this up – it is up to the adults to tailor Slaine’s education, as they deem necessary.

“He’s still working for them, at the palace. For the princess’ advisors,” Rayet continues, disregarding the thoughts in her head.

As naïve Slaine is, she cannot say that he is not trying his best with what he has to work with. Whatever is ailing him cannot easily be cured. As tempting as it may be to tell him of that other world, she is unsure if he could currently handle it, as he is.

“I.. see..” he says, slow as he gathers his thoughts. When they were younger, Rayet’s father worked less and had more time to spend with her. But now, it seems as if the princess’ advisors send him out almost daily, scouting some nearby area with some other people. “Let’s go see the ship you were telling me about,” he suggests, smiling again, all trace of worry and unease from before now gone. “What did you say it was called, again..? It had a special name..”

“The ‘ _Deucalion’_ ,” she offers, already getting up, stretching her arms. It has been awhile since they explored together, and she knows just how much Slaine enjoys wandering and looking around. The distractions help.

The _Deucalion_ is indeed a special name, for a special kind of ship – it used to be used by their own kind to wage war with the humans on the surface, in time’s past.

* * *

 

Harklight does not get along well with Slaine's beloved cousin.

Whenever Slaine is not off by himself, he is usually with her. They spend _hours_ together, most likely wandering around places they should not be, though Harklight is unable to prove it when they both come home empty handed, and Slaine himself refuses to disclose where he has been and what they do together. At the very least, it seems he is enjoying himself, and Rayet is keeping her word when it comes to what she does and does not tell him.

Still, however..

Slaine may tire of this, one day.

Perhaps one day, their kingdom will not be enough.

Perhaps one day, Slaine’s dangerous curiosity will seize him.

Perhaps one day, Slaine will tire of their deep, dark kingdom, and seek refuge in shallower waters.

Perhaps one day, Rayet will tire of keeping things from him, and Slaine will realise he has been kept, quite literally, in the dark. Perhaps he will be hurt enough to leave.

The thoughts are painful. Saddening. They leave a foul taste in Harklight’s mouth, and he expels them from his mind before they start to tear away at his heart.

Such a day will never come. Slaine will remain here, safe, cared for, and he will get better.

 

 

 _He_ **has** _to get better._

* * *

 

Blissful ignorance can only go so far.

It had only taken one mistake.

A single, stupid, ill-thought out mistake.

 _I shouldn’t have left him alone,_ Harklight thinks, unsure if he can regret his decision any more than he does right now.

They were supposed to have a normal evening, unlike any other – Slaine was to go out and feed his jellyfish, as he usually does, an then return, _happy_. It had _seemed_ a good idea at the time.. Slaine had been smiling, insisted he felt good that day..

Slaine’s smiles are rare. The genuine ones. The happy, _real_ ones that have been dangerously absent throughout most of his short life. Harklight notices the rest of them: the lonely ones, the sad ones, the bittersweet ones, the pained ones that often make their way to Slaine’s lips when he thinks no one is looking.

Slaine’s eyes are most often devoid of mirth and joy, and it is painfully easy to tell when he has spent hours crying in his room.

“ _Damn it_ ,” Harklight swears, pacing around Slaine’s bedroom, exhausted.

It has been a few days. A week, maybe; it is hard to tell, and he is unsure due to a lack of sleep.

There is no trace of Slaine. No blood. No scent. No scales, just.. _Nothing_. It is as if he has just up and disappeared into the vastness of the sea.

A small lapse in judgment had cost him one of the few things he cares about. A slip had cost him Slaine.

For the past few days, he has been rummaging through Slaine’s belongings, hoping for some sort of clue, a shred of evidence, any indication as to where he might have gone off to, if he had chosen to leave of his own volition.

Slaine.. admittedly, does not have much. At the moment, his personal artifacts only consist of dozens of gems and minerals and other odd, human items that he enjoys collecting: coins, pearls, spoons, knives, forks..

The utensils are assorted in some way; it took a few moments, but Harklight realised Slaine has separated those that are rusted and tarnished from those that are not, most likely in an effort to keep the 'pretty' ones easily accessible.

The gems are still scattered about the room where Slaine had left them, and the skull atop one of the taller slabs is still eerily decorated, with amethysts in its eye sockets and rubies atop its head. Eerie, and an all around rather unpleasant thing to look at, when privy to the knowledge of what it actually belongs to.

Harklight had wanted to throw it away, or hide it, but for whatever reason, Slaine got attached to it.. leading to it being decorated the way it is, now.

The rubies gleam unnervingly on top of the skull’s head, and on the stone slab around it. Red has always been Slaine’s favourite colour, and he does not make any effort to hide that fact. The rubies are varied, some of them muddied or chipped, all of them different, inconsistent sizes; red, just like..

_.. just like.._

It is then that Harklight stops, momentarily stupefied.

Red has always been Slaine’s favourite colour, for a very obvious reason – but that reason died when Slaine turned sixteen.

It had died, along with the disappearance of his dear cousin, Rayet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand, we're back! I apologise for taking such a huge break from this. ;;  
> A few notes; updates will still be sporadic. Unfortunately, I cannot promise regular updates due to my health, but I will try my best to deliver some nice quality content this year! I have gone back and edited some of the older chapters; no important changes have been made, this is just so that I can rework some things to match my newest style.  
> I _will_ finish this! No matter how long it takes me! And I thank y'all for sticking through with me and supporting me along the way~ It means a lot. ;; All of your kind comments motivate me and make me really happy.. I'm thankful to have you all reading my work! And I'm even happier to see that so many people enjoy this AU!  
>  I'm more than happy to answer questions, and if y'all would prefer to ask them elsewhere, I'm active everyday on my tumblr, [so please direct questions here!](http://a-k-a-ruenis.tumblr.com/) I also want to get into the habit of posting updates on what I'm working on and how my health is, because some of you are worried about me! ;; I'll keep on trying my best, and I just want to thank y'all again for sticking through!


	32. Chapter 32

“ _It isn’t_ **my** _fault!” Slaine retorts, voice high and shaky and on the verge of breaking, “It isn’t..” The words feel stuck in his throat like hard, sharp bits of shell, cutting and scraping. It hurts, and he wishes he could cough up whatever makes it hard to speak. Digging his nails into his palms, he tries to calm himself down._

_It is not working._

_With his heart pounding dangerously hard and fast in his chest, and his tears obscuring his vision, it is hard to think – it is hard to think, and it is hard to breathe and talk and the pain in his heart blinds him to the fact that his nails have now punctured his own skin._

_The water tastes like blood. Smells like blood. It is his own blood._

_Calming himself down is impossible when he is this agitated. This upset. It is impossible to do without help when he is like this, and the only person now who could have tried has betrayed him in the worst way possible._

“ _Slaine, please calm do–..” Harklight starts, worry in his eyes, guilt._

“ _Rayet’s disappearance isn’t_ **my** _fault!” Slaine insists, digging his nails in a bit further._

_It hurts, then._

_Slaine bites back a wince and chews on his bottom lip, not wanting to lose what little composure he has left. “She isn’t..” The word is stuck, again. The one word. The most painful one, the one Harklight dared to utter just a few short moments ago. “Rayet didn’t die, and you know it,” he hisses, the word heavy._

_It does not settle. Rayet did not die. Rayet did not die. His dear cousin, the only person he can possibly trust right now, did not die._

She didn’t.. she didn’t.. _Slaine blinks back tears, but does not dare to move to wipe them away. Harklight is right in front of him, looking on the verge of cracking himself._

_Harklight breathes out. Clenching his own hands into tight fists, he tries to ignore the pain in his heart, and says, slow, “There was an accident..” It comes out weak. Unbelievable. Even as he says them, he knows the words do not come off as true, they do not come easy._

“ _You and I both know there wasn’t any_ _ **accident**_ _.”_

_The glare that Slaine gives him causes Harklight to look away. “Slaine..” he murmurs, knowing there is nothing he can do right now to ease even a little bit of Slaine’s pain._

_With each word Slaine says, in that hostile, broken tone, Harklight feels his heart break a little more. As much as it pains him to admit, Slaine’s violent hostility toward him is warranted. Well warranted. Being Slaine’s sole caretaker means he had been tasked with –_ forced, really, I had no say in the matter – _the dangerous deed of informing the blond about the.._ _ **situation**_ _regarding his cousin and her father._

“ _I’m.. really sorry, Slaine. I know how much you loved..” Harklight starts again, and Slaine shakes his head a few times, forcing a smile._

_Relaxing his fists, Slaine allows his nails to painfully part from his cut palms. They are tipped with blood that only makes the water around them taste of blood, taste metallic and wrong. “Leave,” he says, soft, defeated, “Just.. leave me alone, Harklight.”_

“ _.. of course. I’m sorry, Slaine,” Harklight whispers, swallowing the hard lump of pure guilt in his throat._

 _There is nothing more he can do. There is nothing he could have done to get Slaine to believe him._ **They** _may not think the blond is anything more than the wound up, naïve doctor's son, but Harklight knows better; he always has._

_Slaine will not believe any lies they tell him, any false stories they feed him._

_The blond remains perfectly still as Harklight passes, and the older man hears another one of those weak, shaky exhales and then a laugh – a broken, soft one._

“ _I wish I’d disappeared, too.”_

* * *

 

Slaine is quiet as he gazes at the photo on the parchment, bewilderment having faded but a moment ago. It seems as if he is about to cry again, judging from the pained look on his face, the tears rimming his eyes. The parchment crinkles in his hands and he sets it down on his pillow, wiping at his eyes with his sleeves.

Nina remains crouching beside him, taking care not to get any snow on her uniform. It is still rather cold outside, and her uniform would do nothing if it were to become soaked with snow; at least the inn is decently warm enough. “Slaine..?” she calls, trying to meet his eyes.

“ _.. hvar er Inaho?”_ the blond asks, soft. There is a slight shake in his voice, just a small one. It seems he will be calm enough waiting for Inaho.

“Inaho’s..” Nina shifts, glancing behind him and out to sea. The ships, though visible, are far, far away and they will not be here for at least another hour and a half, or so. All the officers on board will be tasked with assisting the captain to ensure nothing happens during the pirate’s transfer to Russian custody. “Inaho’s.. not..” She shakes her head a few times, and Slaine blinks a few times in surprise, sadness flickering across his features.

Like before, he does not cry. Quickly wiping at his eyes, he breathes out, soft, slow.

They all remain quiet as Slaine takes time to calm completely down, though it is clear that the situation upsets him. There is still sadness in his eyes, hurt, and he seems confused as to _why_ he has been put into this situation.. but he does not seem like he will crack, thankfully.

“Slaine,” Nina tries again, glancing toward the others, “do you want to, um..” She pauses, wondering if English would be worth trying or not. Probably not; it would only serve to confuse him more. “Do you want to go lie down?” she asks, soft, and she makes a small gesture – clasping her hands together, and tilting her head, she shuts her eyes for a moment, peeking only when she hopes Slaine has understood her.

It takes a few moments, but Slaine eventually nods, smoothing the parchment on his lap. It crinkles against his pillow, soft and muffled. This situation upsets him, but it seems he will keep it, at least for now.

“Great, let’s get him back to the inn, then,” Calm says softly, approaching the two of them.

Neither of them touch Slaine as they gather themselves, taking care to be gentle with him as they continue on. The snowy road makes it bumpy, but just as before, Calm tries his best to keep from going too fast or hitting anything particularly hard, not wanting to frighten him. It is the least they can do, with the loudness of the port clearly bothering their guest.

Slaine pulls at his borrowed woollen cap, pulling it further over his ears and face in an attempt to block out the noise. They hear him mumble something under his breath, soft, far too soft to catch, and then he falls completely silent.

“.. maybe we shoulda tried harder at learning another language,” Calm murmurs, frowning, “then at least _one_ of us could’ve talked to him. Even the captain doesn’t speak Russian..”

“I’m surprised he even _knows_ Russian,” Tsumugi comments, glancing toward the brunet at his side, “Even for Europeans, don’t they generally learn their native language and English? And even if he speaks Russian, we know he _isn’t_ Russian, because he would’ve used that first.”

“Yeah, so we can rule him being Russian out again,” Matsuribi hums, nodding a few times in agreement, “Are you guys sure he’s not Canadian?” The two of them are walking at a slower pace behind the three blonds, taking care to keep a distance between each of them so no one bumps into each other. Should Calm come to a sudden stop, they might accidentally jostle Slaine.

Nina frowns at that, “He would’ve at least known English, if he were.”

“Or French,” Tsumugi offers.

Calm shakes his head at that, stopping for a moment in front of a thick group of passerbys. It would do no good to get Slaine _too_ close to anyone other than themselves, especially given how hard he is trying to keep himself calm without any help. “The majority of us don’t act’lly learn French,” he says, “Nina and I don’t know it. And since we don’t really go to that part of Europe.. I guess it’s kinda a good thing we never learned?”

“We would’ve had to practise with each other, on our own,” Nina agrees, “And that’s hard to do, especially if you don’t use it in normal conversation..”

Matsuribi sighs behind her, “So.. we still don’t really have anythin’ to go on..”

The only hint they have now is the fact that Slaine _can_ speak Russian, but it is not his first language. It is not that useful, considering they most likely will end up leaving him here, if they cannot find anyone for him. Having a boy who cannot walk or communicate easily on the ship for a long time may prove to be more of a hindrance, even if they are only trying to help him. If there were an accident, or he were injured.. the _Wadatsumi_ crew would be held fully accountable for him.

“Y’know..” the brunet muses, frowning, “for such an anxious kid.. I’m surprised someone left him alone long enough t’ be kidnapped. Isn’t that kinda irresponsible, considering..”

“It’s extremely irresponsible,” Tsumugi agrees, tone low and firm. As a naval officer, he takes his job seriously, and he expects others to do the same, whatever their own jobs and responsibilities may be. “Whomever was in charge of his care will have to answer a few of the captain’s questions if we find them.”

“ _When_ we find them,” Nina corrects, “We’ll find them, it just..”

.. may take quite some time.

 

 

The inn seems to help Slaine calm down considerably.

It is quiet.

It is cool.

The curtains are drawn shut, making Slaine’s room dim, and even with the door open, there is not much noise filtering in from the tavern. Nina had made sure to give the last room in this hall to Slaine and Inaho, further lessening the amount of noise their guest is exposed to. Everything is muffled, with voices passing by, obscured by walls and curtains and coming in gargled and broken.

Unlike the _Wadatsumi_ crew, Slaine is still at ease and does not seem bothered by the temperature. The room, without the fireplace on, is not much better compared to the outside streets. There is a coldness to the room, a sort of chilled breeze that lingers about.

Slaine sits quietly on his bed, smoothing the sheets and adjusting himself as he sees fit. Getting him out of the wheelchair was easy enough, thankfully; their guest did not complain or freeze up this time, and tried his best to comply as well as he could without the use of his legs. His pillow lies next to him, smushed and flat.

“.. for not bein’ able to use his legs, he moves around a lot, huh?” Calm muses, and Slaine only glances at him, those teal eyes of his lingering over Calm’s. There is a tiredness in them, though Slaine does not seem interested in resting quite yet, most likely courtesy of the four people still in his room.

“At least he’s exercising,” Matsuribi offers from the doorway. Tsumugi and he are crowded in it, keeping the cool draft from the hall coming in too much. Shifting, he leans against the bespectacled young man at his side, “Want anything before we go? Kid probably needs some rest while he waits for the rest of the crew.”

“Um..” Nina glances toward Slaine, who meets her gaze after a moment.

The parchment he had been holding onto before is on the desk in the corner, now; Slaine had put it there himself, apparently not wanting it anymore, or finding the contents upsetting, given the look that had been on his face, earlier.

It had been.. sad. Distressed. Slaine must have remembered something painful.

“Slaine, do you want water?” she asks, making a small drinking gesture – she cups her and and brings it to her lips, hoping that Slaine can understand that much. She cannot recall the word Slaine had used for it.

It takes a few moments. Slaine gazes at her, frowning before looking surprised, recognition in his eyes. “ _Vatn?”_ he questions, lighting up, “ _Mig langar í vatnsglas.”_ Mimicking Nina's small movement, he earns nods from the crew; the affirmation causes him to smile, a smile that he bites back on, shy.

Their guest looks away from them before they can get another word out of him.

“I think that was the word. The ‘V’ one,” Calm says, looking to the older two crewmen, “Could’cha grab him a snack, too? And then he can wait here, for Naho.”

“Nothing sour, we..”

“ _.. 'Naho'?”_ Slaine repeats, quiet and low. The nickname, like the one before, causes vague recognition to flash in his teal eyes, warm and hopeful.

Tsumugi and Matsuribi spare him a glance before taking their leave. “We'll be right back,” the bespectacled young man says, tone low, “Be careful with using his name. We wouldn't want to confuse him, alright?”

“Yeah. You got it,” Calm says, nodding, “See ya in a few, then.”

Slaine blinks when the two of them start to leave, and shifts, trying to watch them from his spot on his bed. “ _Hvert eru ūær ađ fara?”_ he asks, frowning, “ _Nina? Calm?”_ Pausing, he glances between the two blonds, and then tries, “ _Ina_ –..”

“Ah, um, they're getting you water,” Nina quickly says, stepping in front of him and blocking his view, “ _Vatn_ , I mean, for you.”

The simple word causes Slaine to settle down almost immediately; the blond smooths the blanket on his lap, breathing out softly. “ _Takk fyrir,”_ he murmurs, offering them a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in order, Slaine says;  
> "Where's Inaho?"  
> "I want a glass of water."  
> "Where are they going?"  
> .  
> happy Mermay!!! my second fave month out of the year! :) the A/Z fandom deserves lots more Mermays, and I believe Slaine would fit the theme perfectly.


	33. Chapter 33

It _is_ warmer down in the hold. Quite warmer. The plentiful lanterns help with that, though they also mean more fire and more danger if any number of them were to fall and shatter against the floorboards. They seem secure enough, though Inaho cannot help but continue glancing upward at them.

More warmth means it is brighter as well. The halls are easy to navigate. Easier, this time around, as the pirates have not put out any lights in an attempt to hide themselves.

Inaho has to put up with the pirates talking amongst themselves, continuous complaints about him stealing their ‘precious treasure’ from them.

One of them had mentioned earlier that Slaine _bit_ him. It is the only reason, so far, for Slaine to have been gagged, since Inaho highly doubts Slaine would have called for help. It is clear that their guest at least understands he is nowhere near home, and is far, far from friends and family.

Their repetitive banter is quickly becoming uninteresting. Whatever they had been intending on doing with Slaine does not matter now that he is far from their reach, and no amount of complaining and insisting will change that.

Should things go well, Slaine will be well on his way home within the week, and never come close enough to the surface again, and..

_And.._

“.. kid isn’t even human, y’know! Yer harbouring somethin’ dangerous!” one of the pirates calls out, and Inaho is glad that Inko is in the other hall, though they are probably spouting the same drivel. Unlike how the pirates treated their ‘precious treasure’, they were free to roam around their ship and drink and eat and rest as needed, as the _Wadatsumi_ crew did not need to fear being attacked.

Inaho knows he cannot deny the fact that Slaine is dangerous.

It is obvious that he is. If the _Wadatsumi_ crew looked at him just a bit closer, they would notice it, too.

Inaho has not seen the pirate that claims he was bitten. Slaine’s canines make it clear enough that a bite from him would be as painful as it is dangerous – the blond’s nails, too, make any exposed skin and blood vessels a liability. If he were in the water, Slaine could probably use his heavy tail, but.. with him being on land, he is at least less dangerous that way. And then there is the humming..

Slaine is extremely well equipped to handle himself, so long as he is not disarmed, like he had been. Had Inaho not taken proper care of him and showed him kindness, he might have been injured as well, when he nearly touched his neck.

Fortunately for Inaho, he has always been rather adept at ignoring people. Regardless of his wandering off or not, Slaine would have been found. Their anger, though understandable, is misdirected in the end. They have no one to be angry with but themselves, for keeping someone on board in the conditions Inaho found Slaine.

Completely human or not, tying someone up and depriving them of food and water and comfort is deplorable. Even Inaho takes care not to shoot any vitals. Thanks to their blatant disregard for normal care, their punishment will be more severe than it initially could have been, and it will no doubt become worse and worse the more they talk.

Inaho ignores the pirate’s complaints and shouting as he continues down the hall, resting a hand on his rapier’s hilt.

In about a half an hour or so, he and Inko will be finished with their shift, and will switch with Kakei again, who will be joined by Yuki, this time. Their senior officers are obviously more experienced than the newer recruits, and even Inaho, with his three years of experience, still has much to learn.

They all do.

Nina will become an excellent navigator, and she will one day be able to easily read the stars and sky without her maps.

Inko will become an admirable officer, upholding the proper rules and regulations that come with it, and she will perform her duties far more responsibly than Inaho will.

Calm will probably become the best at his trade, repairing ships and anything else that needs fixing, and his skills will be highly valuable considering by then, he will have worked on countless ship parts and have gotten the needed experience to be a capable boatswain.

And Inaho..

“That kid’s gonna end up doin’ ya way more harm than good, y’know! We all know what mermaids do! He’s just takin’ advantage of you!”

Dangerous qualities aside, it is clear that Slaine is extremely forgiving and kind, and not at all the vile monstrosity the myths paint mermaids – _we're still not completely sure of what he is, exactly_ – nor does he seem the type to want to drown humans.

Inaho continues on, ignoring their chatter.

Words lose meaning when they fall on deaf ears.

 

 

“How were they?” Yuki asks curiously, though judging from the look on her face, it seems she might already know the answer.

“Noisy,” Inaho answers, gaze lingering over the keys as Inko hands them to their superior. There is slight annoyance in his tone, and he is now free to say and act as he pleases now that he is out of their judgemental sight.

Yuki smiles, sheepish, as she stores the keys in her pockets.

They all know better than to wear them at their waists, where they could easily be snatched away – far easier than a pistol could be. Their swords and guns are not much of a liability, unless the people they are dealing with are particularly vicious.

They seem less likely to do something with their leader still in custody, but the _Wadatsumi_ crew must be alert to anything that could potentially happen. Any injury to any party could be damaging to Magbaredge’s case in getting them properly punished. If any officers were to get hurt, they could be seen as lenient, and any injury to the pirates would be investigated.

Kidnapping a boy who cannot walk or not, the pirates are still human, and any injury has to be justifiable.

“They really don't like you, Nao,” Yuki murmurs, apologetic.

“It doesn't matter. Slaine's safety is more important,” Inaho says, shaking his head.

It is, in the end, all that matters. So long as they help Slaine get his strength back, and ensure he remains uninjured.. he _should_ be able to make the trip back home, wherever it is, rather easily.

“They kept complaining the whole time,” Inko says, sighing, “At least in Russia only a few people will be able to understand them.. And I’m sure they won’t tolerate the constant yelling.”

Inaho remains quiet at that.

Slaine must not have felt safe in their hands, much less comfortable. The pirates are everything he seems to be extremely uneasy with, exemplify that which he finds anxiety in.

“Yuki-nee. We'll be taking our breaks, now,” Inaho murmurs, stepping away from her. The deck is far too cold to wander about, but it would do no good to meddle while Yuki is patrolling around the cell quarters. Likewise, Marito is keeping an eye up above, and Inaho does not intend on staying up there unless absolutely necessary. “Call us if anything happens.”

Though nothing probably will, unless the pirates manage to steal the keys from his older sister, or pick themselves out of their cells. Without their own leader, they are far more ruly and behaved. Magbaredge’s foresight to keep them separated will prove useful in keeping things handled until they arrive at the Magadan docks.

 

 

Inko steals glances from her childhood friend as the two of them lean against the banister, careful to grip it tightly in case some stray wave rock the pirate ship too much. The wind is picking up, and it is still cold, colder now, than it had been before. Their faces are both flushed red, and soon, she thinks Inaho may end up going back inside to save himself.

This ship has seen better days. It is not in terrible disrepair, but it is clear that it could be in much better condition than it is, now. There are creaking boards, holes, panels missing from the walls and doors.. The ship has probably traded hands more than it should have, and has not received the proper upkeep a ship of this size demands. Judging from the rowdy crew, none of them seem suited to the job, either. When they hand it over to the Russian officers, it will be up to them whether they scrap it or refurbish it to suit their own needs.

“It’s.. getting cloudier,” Inko comments offhandedly, watching as something flickers across Inaho’s face. The brunet has been in quiet, deep thought for quite some time now, and has not said much during their break. Resting her cheek against her hand, she glances downward, at the sea; the ship’s hull seems to be warped by sea salt, and encrusted with barnacles, only visible when the wave shies away after crashing. “Do you think he’s interesting?” she finally asks, and _that_ is when Inaho finally raises his head, caught off-guard.

“What?” he questions, unsure if he heard her right. His own cheeks are redder than hers, always are, and the tips of his ears and fingers look like they are close to losing feeling.

“Slaine,” she clarifies for him, smiling as he stares at her, “Do you think Slaine’s interesting?”

“.. yes,” Inaho answers, slow as he tries to figure out where his friend is going with this. They have already established that Calm’s playful joke from before was not meant to be taken seriously – Slaine’s interest in him is most likely completely innocent, Inaho is, after all, the one going through all the trouble to care for him and hide his secret. “Why?” he questions, pulling away from the banister.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve had someone on the ship. You usually avoid people,” she murmurs, and he looks away from her, dark eyes flickering back toward the sea.

Inaho actively avoids the passengers for the most part. They generally treat him with wild disparity, either respecting him as a naval officer and sometimes giving him spare coins or old jewelry as thanks for his service, or wondering if he is someone’s child that is on board as ‘young help’, and treat him with gifts of candy.

It is a nuisance, being treated either way. Inaho would much rather do his job with little acknowledgement from anyone other than the crew; it is only a job, after all, no matter how ‘noble’ the general populace makes it sound.

“Slaine.. has an otherworldly kind of foreign charm,” Inko continues, lowering her voice, “It doesn’t seem like he really..”

_Belongs?_

“.. his eyes look like the colour of the sea,” Inaho mumbles, resting his arms back on the banister. The taste of salt is a familiar memory; almost drowning leaves quite the impression on someone, especially a naval officer that is far too young to retire and reckless enough to continue. “What do you think of mermaids?” he asks, repeating the question she had asked him earlier.

“Eh? I..” She blinks, surprised by his sudden question. “You mean.. if they were real?” she questions, shifting again. Breathing out, she watches her breath come out a white fog, soft and it does nothing to warm her mouth.

He nods.

“Depending on the myth, they drown people.. And Japanese mermaids aren't as beautiful as he is..” she muses, completely serious, and has obviously come to the same conclusion Inaho had before, “.. so he'd be the western kind, probably, the pretty ones that the Europeans talk about in their fairy tales, the ones that save people.”

 _So that's what you think, too. Even if he has dangerous traits,_ he thinks to himself, pulling away from the banister once again and rubbing his hands together, this time. The cold metal seeps into his skin, steals his warmth, and he glances toward the door that leads back to the cells. “I think so, too,” he murmurs, agreeing with her, “We.. should go back inside. There’s no reason to st-..”

_bang!_

The two of them completely freeze up for only a moment, drawing their pistols mere seconds later when the initial shock wears off. The colour is gone from their faces, and they nod at each other, slow, as they make their way toward the door.

Inaho’s breath comes out a bit shaky, and Inko cannot tell if it is due to the cold, or if he is worried for his sister and other crew members – even now, his features are hard to read through the careful calm, but the tips of his fingers are red as he grips his gun.

Inko follows after him quietly, feeling her heart lurch in her chest.

Words of encouragement are lost on her tongue. ‘I’m sure she’s fine’, she wants to say, or, ‘I’m sure that sound was something else’.

The words would be no use when they both know full well what that was, they just do not know what happened.

“Inko,” he calls, soft, “Don’t hesitate.”


End file.
